


Ventus Aqua Terra Ignis

by ddelusionall



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Draco's point of view, Elemental Magic, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Everyone's fit, F/M, Foursome - F/M/M/M, Golden Trio Secrets, Hogwarts Eighth Year, Horny Harry, Light Bondage, Light Dom/sub, Lots and lots of sex, M/M, Made up some of my own spells, Minor Original Character(s), Multi, Not Britpicked, Not Epilogue Compliant, Repentant Draco, Ron likes to be in charge, Sex, Slow Burn, the others don't mind because he's fit, weird bit of hentai-ness with vines because well Harry has the power
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-28
Updated: 2018-03-13
Packaged: 2018-12-20 18:28:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 91,906
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11926701
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ddelusionall/pseuds/ddelusionall
Summary: Draco needs an O on his Potions N.E.W.T. to even think about a Potions Mastery, which means he has to go back to Hogwarts for an "eighth year." He has plans to keep his head down, stay out of trouble, and just survive. Enter the Golden Trio who decide that's a bad idea and drag Draco right into the middle of their secret.





	1. Home Sweet Home

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: Elemental fic. Lots of magic. Some misuse of magic because I'm pretty sure JK Rowling did not intend for magic to make sex kinky. There are some master/sub themes and some light bondage. These characters are definitely not mine, nor is the Harry Potter Universe. I am only borrowing them for my own perverted amusement. No money is made. All mistakes are my own.
> 
> Cross posted to http://be-ddelusionall.livejournal.com/
> 
> This belongs in the category of EWE (Epilogue? What Epilogue?). It is Book 7 compliant. Mostly. It's been a long time since I read book 7.

Draco sat as still as possible, back straight, knees perfectly bent, feet on the floor. He breathed only when he had to, soft inhales that sounded like a _Sonorous_ had been cast in the quiet of the train compartment. He stared straight across at the garishly coloured fabric of the seat in front of him, eyes following the golden curls on the deep red background. Like a gold ribbon slipping through blood.

He swallowed when his breath threatened to stop.

The sounds of students rushing to find empty compartments faded to a few stragglers.

Waiting. Soon, just a few more bloody moments.

His fingers were ghostly white, clenched in fists atop his thighs.

When the train finally moved, Draco let out a long breath, one that stopped just as suddenly into a pained choking noise when the compartment door opened and ruined his little sanctuary.

“Malfoy, just the man I wanted to see.”

Draco snorted; he couldn’t help it.

Harry fucking Potter smiled at him and dropped into the seat next to him. To Draco’s dismay, the other two thirds of the Golden Trio sat in the seats across from them.

The door shut, and silence fell between them.

Potter leaned his head back against the seat and sighed. Almost in relief. “Felt your magic,” he muttered, “on the wards on the door. So against the rules, by the way, but if I can get peace and quiet anywhere, it’s going to be right here.”

An insult about Potter’s adoring public died on his lips. He did not know what to say to the man that had kept him and his mother out of prison. But he figured that insulting him was a bad idea. He had vowed that he would not rile Potter up, no matter the situation.

Awkward situation.

Draco’s fists relaxed enough to fiddle with the top of his fingers, clicking his nails in the silence.

Draco turned his head to look out the window, at the countryside whooshing by them on their way to Hogwarts. He suddenly felt that he was on his way to the gallows.

“I didn’t see you on the platform,” Potter said carefully.

Draco did not look at him. He felt his cheeks flush and said, “I was given permission to board the train closer to my home.”

“Ah, that makes sense,” Potter said. “Do you mind if I nap? I didn’t get a lot of sleep last night.”

Weasley snorted, but the sound was full of humor and affection.

“I do not really care what you do, Potter,” Draco said. His voice was softer than he wanted, but at least it wasn’t weak. He could do this. He could still be ... still be ... a Malfoy.

Even to him, that name felt dirty in his mind.

He spared a glance at the other two. Granger, just like Draco, already wore her school robes. She was wearing purple leggings underneath them. Her legs were crossed, a ballet flat bouncing off her ankle as she read. She had an old book on her knee, turning the pages with one hand. The other hand was clasped within Weasley’s, their fingers entwined.

Of course, they were dating. The rags and gossipmongers had Harry Potter breaking them up every other week or so.

Surprisingly, Weasley was dressed mostly decent, in a pair of well-fitted jeans and a brown jumper that looked much softer and more comfortable than the chair they were sitting on. He’d cut his hair short sometime since Draco’s trial, the ends spiked up. Like that, his hair looked less bright orange and more dark red. Almost like a dying fire.

Potter, as always, was a slob, in clothes too big for him and trainers with the laces untied. His mop of hair was longer, brushing his chin. But even in a baggy T-shirt, he looked fit.

“Malfoy, you read Ancient Runes, correct?” Granger said suddenly.

He glanced at her in surprise and failed to stop his sneer. “Of course, Granger.”

She leaned over the space between them and plopped the book on Draco’s knees. It was very old, held together by a charm that tingled at his fingertips.

“I cannot make sense of this passage.” She pointed to a section near the top of a page. “It is either talking about how to delicately prune and harvest trimonian berries, or it’s cautioning about their thorns of glass? Even using key words around it, I just cannot figure it out.”

Draco glanced down at the book, slipping his mind into the ancient alphabet that his father had made him study when he was only twelve. He read the entire page and realized with a start that it was an ancient potions book.

“Where did you get this book?” Draco asked.

Granger smiled. “I dragged these two louts to the middle of a desert in Turkey.”

“Merlin, do not bring that up,” Harry mumbled. “I had sand in my pants for weeks.”

“It was a lead on the recluse Diamber Whetle.”

Draco’s eyes went wide. “And you found?”

“A bit of a cave. She had obviously lived there. Only a few scrolls had been preserved. I found them in an alcove hidden by very strong magic. The scrolls were brittle and I had to be careful, so I turned them into this small book.”

“By the Gods, Granger. That witch is a legend. People have been searching for her papers for centuries.”

Granger smiled. “I will take that as a compliment. I’ve read it through this few times. You may read it now if you’d like. But can you tell me about that passage?”

Draco stared at her for a bit longer, and then cleared his throat and said, “There are symbols here I do not recognize, but I think your first assumption is correct. I do not think trimonian bushes have thorns, definitely not ones made of glass.”

“I never was good at herbology. I wonder if Neville will be at Hogwarts.”

“He said he might come later,” Potter said. “His grandmother is sick.”

“When did he tell you that?”

“Last week, I think.”

“You could have said.”

“I just did say.”

Hermione huffed.

Draco looked back down at the improvised book. He found himself reading it without meaning to. He started in surprised when Potter made a noise and huffed in his sleep. He glanced up, noting that more time had passed than he thought. Weasley was resting his head on the chair also, his long legs twisted around Potter’s in the space between them. Granger had pulled out a notebook, writing without glancing up.

It was ... normal. Which made Draco wary.

“So what gives?” Draco demanded, quietly to not wake up Potter or Weasley, though he should not have cared.

Granger glanced up at him with an eyebrow quirked. “What?”

Draco waved his hand around the compartment. “This ... why ... What the bloody fuck is this?”

Granger smiled. “Like Harry said, we won’t be disturbed here. Your wards on the door are really strong.”

“But you felt it.”

“Only Harry did. He’s connected to your magic a bit, from using your wand before. We weren’t sure if you were coming back to Hogwarts or not. I think you’re the only eighth-year Slytherin.”

Draco looked out the window again. “I am. But ... this ... just. I broke Potter’s nose the last time we were in the same train compartment.”

Granger’s smile widened. “True, but that was ... well maybe just a couple years ago, but it feels like a lifetime ago. If you’d like us to hex you and trade insults, we could do that too, and we will leave if you want us to, but it’s been a long time since we’ve been able to just relax.”

She went back to her notes.

Draco stared at her a little longer and looked back down at the book. Confused. But not about everything. Before leaving home, he had vowed to make a truce with the Golden Trio.

“You don’t have to leave,” Draco said, glaring at the window.

“Thank you.”

Time passed with the trees flowing beyond the window.

“If you want the snack cart to stop here, you better let down your wards for a moment,” Granger said. “Unless you want those hexes. Harry will be upset if he doesn’t get any chocolate.”

Draco fought a smile, but did as she suggested and let down his wards. A few minutes later, Potter and Weasley woke up as the cart rumbled by. The quiet destroyed, Draco turned his head to the window and listened to the pair bicker about the best kind of chocolate.

Someone nudged him.

He kept the glare off his face, though barely.

“You want one?” Potter asked, his own lips polkadotted with chocolate. He smiled and held out a chocolate bar.

He thought of refusing, met Granger’s eyes, and knew that he could not. A chocolate bar of peace? It was better than nothing.

“Maybe a bit,” Draco said.

Potter snorted. “A bit? We’re still teenagers and allowed to be immature and love chocolate. Here, have half.” And Potter ripped open the bar, broke it in half, and gave Draco the part still in the wrapper. The other half disappeared into his mouth.

Draco muttered a thank you and broke off a square. It was not Belgian chocolate or fancy French decadence, but the sweet bite on his tongue tasted good. 

The chattering of the other three quieted to a faint drone.

Draco immersed himself in the book, reading ancient ingredients and directions for making potions that were probably highly illegal. Like a skin-eating potion. The introduction mentioned something along the lines of using it to cure some disease from long ago, but into today’s modern society ... a potion like that was enough to have his skin crawling.

In the wrong hands ...

“Thank the Gods,” Draco muttered.

“What?” Potter asked from next to him.

Startled, Draco glanced at the three of them. They had not moved, but looked ... more comfortable. Weasley’s jumper was gone, thrown over Granger’s legs. His white T-shirt was form fitting and that was so not on. How did the Weasel get to be so strong? Granger was leaning against him, his arm thrown around her shoulders. He glanced down, at the way Potter and Weasley’s socked feet were tangled around each other, Weasley’s foot almost shoved up one of Potter’s pantlegs.

“Nothing just ...” Draco swallowed and looked back at the book.

“The skin-eating one?” Granger asked.

Draco nodded. “It’s ...”

“Disturbing,” she finished. “Indeed.”

“Can we skip dinner?” Weasley asked suddenly.

Both Granger and Potter looked at him like he had lost a few Knuts.

Weasley smiled and shoved at Potter’s leg with his foot. “Seriously. You want to walk into the Great Hall like everything is normal?”

Potter made a face and then nodded. “No, but I have to.”

“If there’s a line for your autograph, do not expect me to stay,” Draco said. Almost dralwed. Perfect. Yes. Normal. Like everything was normal.

Except Weasley laughed. At Draco’s joke. That was not normal.

And Potter shoved him with his shoulder and called him a git under his breath, but there was absolutely nothing but humor in his voice.

“You know we have to, guys,” Granger said. “Headmistress McGonagall asked us to be there.”

Potter sighed and leaned back again with his eyes shut. “Fucking bloody wanker of a Savior of the wizarding world.”

Draco laughed, cutting it off when Potter smiled. He opened one eye and said, “You and I both agree on one thing, Malfoy. I fucking hate the Boy Who Lived.”

Draco swallowed. Granger pursed her lips, but she stayed silent, which meant this was not the first time Potter had said something like that.

“I wouldn’t say hate,” Draco said carefully. “Despise, maybe. Abhor, even. But not hate.”

Potter laughed. “Abhor. I like that word. I abhor you, Malfoy.”

“Likewise, Potter.”

“Harry,” Granger said.

“Don’t worry, ‘Mione. I abhor you too.”

Weasley laughed. “You love me.”

Potter’s face softened in the strangest way. His mouth curling in a small smile. His eyes stayed shut, but the tightness around the corners melted away. There was a sound of cloth moving again, and this time it was Potter, running a socked foot up Weasley’s leg. Weasley gripped his ankle and pulled his foot into his lap. Potter sighed and lifted both feet into his lap, twisted a bit uncomfortably in his seat, but he didn’t move, smiling with his eyes shut as Weasley rubbed his feet.

Draco swallowed. In the silence, he said, voice almost a whisper. “I don’t hate you, Potter.”

“I know that.”

“I ... Thank you.” Draco squeezed his eyes shut, hands in fists on his knees again. “Thank you. For ... the Room of Requirement. For ... my trial. My mother. I ... just thank you.”

His shoulder was bumped again. “Anytime,” Potter said. “Apparently I have a hero complex.”

Draco smiled tightly and turned his face away, watching the trees flash by. The tightness in his throat only went away when the other three said nothing else to him. He managed to concentrate on the book again. Silence settled between them. Both Potter and Weasley went back to sleep until Granger reminded them that they needed to put on their robes.

Potter took something from his pocket, dropped it on the ground, waved a hand at it with a small word, and a moment later, there was a trunk between them, pushing up against Draco’s knees.

“Shite, Potter.” Draco hated himself for the wide look on his face. Potter hadn’t used a wand.

Potter smiled over at him. “Oh, sorry. Watch your feet.”

“Thanks for this,” Weasley said and flung his legs over the top of it, settling back into the chair. “Way more comfortable.”

“Ronald Weasley,” Hermione said.

Weasley grinned. “Hermione Granger-Weasley.”

“I’m not married to you yet, you big oaf. Get your robes on.”

Potter pulled the top of the trunk open, moving Weasley’s feet. “Shite, nothing stayed where it was supposed to,” Potter said.

“You forgot the sticking charm again,” Granger almost sang, looking back down at her notebook.

“Ugh, why didn’t you remind me?”

“Now, maybe you’ll learn because you have such a mess to clean up.”

Curious, Draco peeked over. It was full of things that were just as miniaturized as the trunk had been. A shrinking spell inside a shrinking spell? That was ... almost impossible. At least, in theory. The inner shrinking spell was said to wear off sooner, breaking apart the outer shrinking spell.

Potter sighed and held his hand over the mess. “ _Accio_ Ron’s school robe.”

A tiny black thing flapped into the air. Potter caught it, no bigger than the palm of his hand. He flung it at Weasley, waved his hand at it, and a full-sized robe ended up covering Weasley’s head, who made a shout of protest.

Potter chuckled and said, “ _Accio_ my school robe.”

On its way out of the trunk, Potter flicked his fingers, and it expanded before Draco’s eyes.

“Circe’s tits,” Draco muttered.

“Malfoy,” Hermione said, in that same tone used to reprimand Weasley.

“Sod off, that is ... how ... why are you even coming back to school?”

Potter re-shrunk the trunk and returned it to his pocket. He stood up to slide on his robe. Smiling, he plopped back next to Draco. “Charms are pretty easy for me. But Potions?” He snorted. “Apparently, I also need to study Ancient Runes if I want to be a Cursebreaker, and Madam Hooch asked me to be an assistant Quidditch teacher.”

“You are awfully terrible at Potions,” Draco said.

“Aw, now you’re just being nice to me.”

“What about you two?” Draco said, trying not to smile.

“I can always use help with Potions,” Granger said, and Weasley nodded.

“I’m horrible at Transfiguration,” Weasley added.

“We’re just like you,” Potter said and actually patted Draco’s knee. “I doubt you need any help with Potions, but your Herbology ...”

Draco snorted. “Why study that when I have gardeners at the Manor?”

“My point exactly, you git,” Potter said with a smile and another shoulder bump.

The trained started to slow.

Draco closed the old book and held it out for Granger.

“Keep it,” she said. “I know you want to finish it. The eighth years are all sharing a tower, so you’ll be able to return it easily.”

Draco swallowed and nodded his thanks. He carefully slipped the book into the small bag of necessities he carried. His trunk was at the back of the train with the others. Draco waited for the other three to stand, before doing so himself. He picked the moment right as the train stopped and he almost fell into Granger.

She laughed and kept him steady, a firm hand on his stomach. Her fingers squeezed before releasing him.

He flushed, but did not curse her like he would have ... only a year ago. A year ago, this entire train ride never would have happened.

“Fuck, Malfoy, how tall are you?” Potter suddenly asked.

Draco glanced at him. Down at him. He cleared his throat, noting that the top of Potter’s head was just about even with his nose. He actually looked Weasley in the eye now.

“Um, almost one eighty.”

“Ha. I still got a few centimeters on you,” Weasley said.

“Fuck, ‘Mione.”

Granger frowned, and in a heartbeat, had Potter wrapped up in a hug. There was a brush of wind that felt like ... no smelled like ... nothing, but it was something that reminded Draco of being refreshed. Clean. And then Potter was breathing heavily against her neck.

Draco glanced at Weasley, eyebrows raised in question.

“Don’t worry about it,” Weasley said and clapped him on the shoulder.

Granger led Potter out of the compartment and into the rush of students. Weasley followed, but stopped at the door. He looked back over at Draco.

“You coming, Ferret?” he asked, smiling. Actually smiling. At him. At Draco Malfoy.

Draco shook his head. “Wait ... I was going to wait ... until the train was empty.”

Weasley rolled his eyes, reached over to him and hauled him out into the hallway. “Bugger that.”

“Ronald, watch your language,” Granger said from somewhere in front of them. “Children.”

And yes, there were children. Lots of children that stared up at Potter and at Weasley. And at him.

Draco found himself in front of Weasley, between him and Granger, who had her hands on Potter’s shoulders, keeping him moving.

As more students caught sight of them, silence rippled all the way to the front of the train. Draco had wanted nothing more than to just slide through the train, be silent, get the last carriage, not draw attention to himself, and here he was, between the Golden Trio. Subjected to stares, wonderment, venom, and a hex that flew dark purple at his face but was blocked by a shield of blue from Granger’s hand. The hex did not rebound, but was sucked into the shield with a small pop.

“That is enough of that,” Granger said, her voice loud in the silence. “No Hogwarts student deserves a slashing hex. Ever. The Headmistress will hear about this and the magical signature will be traced back to whoever threw it. You may save yourself the time and confess to Professor Flitwick as soon as we get off the train and perhaps you won’t be immediately expelled. Now move.”

And the students moved, Draco pushed along the wave, with Weasley’s strong presence behind him. He kept his head down, eyes on the bushy curls that were only kept in place in a tight band at Granger’s neck.

Outside the train, the long line of thestral-drawn carriages awaited them. Draco felt herded, between Granger and Weasley with Potter leading the way. And he also felt thankful. Again.

The inside of the carriage was quiet, blocking out the noise of the students still mulling about outside.

Potter sat across from him, pulling up his legs, resting his face at his knees, arms around his shins. His eyes shut. Breath a bit short. Draco narrowed his eyes and reached to touch his knee. Weasley stopped his hand just short of brushing over the exposed jeans.

“Don’t touch him right now,” Weasley whispered. “He’s okay.”

Draco snorted, but took his hand back. It felt very strange to be concerned about Potter.

“He will be okay,” Granger said. She slammed the door of the carriage with a finality that had Draco jumping in surprise.

“That was a nasty hex,” Weasley said.

“Thank you for stopping it,” Draco said to Granger.

“Anytime, Malfoy. House animosity and squabbles seem perfectly ridiculous when we are all on the same side. We are all here to get an education, and I will stop anyone that tries to keep me from that.”

Weasley leaned close and mock-whispered, “She only stops studying to fuck.”

Draco snorted out an incredulous laugh, unable to keep the smile off his face.

“Fuck you, Ron.”

“Okay. I told you before I wanted to skip dinner.” Once again, he stretched out as he could, hands laced behind his head, and he smiled.

Draco noted the bulk on Weasley’s forearms shown as his robes slipped up. He remembered the breadth of his shoulders in his T-shirt and the way the jeans had fit him so well.

He cleared his throat. “So um ... besides Turkey, what have you three been doing since ... I last ...”

“Since your trial?” Hermione said and shrugged. “Turkey was the extent of the experience. We helped rebuild parts of Hogwarts. Mostly laid low. It’s been ... well, I don’t need to tell you that it’s been rough with the trials and funerals and all the attention Harry has been getting.”

Draco cleared his throat and nodded. He’d been so starved for information on the Boy Who Saved His Life, that he ended up scouring the Prophet every day for a mention of him. There was always at least one picture of Potter at funerals or coming in and out of the Ministry.

“What about you?” Weasley asked. “No more grand parties?”

“Ronald, be nice.”

“Hey, that was nice. I didn’t ask him if he’s been torturing children.”

Draco flushed and looked away.

“Ron,” Potter whispered. “Come on.”

Weasley dropped his arms and put his own elbows on his knees, hands flexing where they hung in the air. He took a few deep breaths. “I am not going to apologize, Malfoy, but I’m ... I’m willing to push away old grudges. I am. It’s just ... Fred ...”

“Your brother,” Draco said, remembering that one of them had died. “I know. I ... I don’t know what to say. Sorry.”

“Don’t say anything,” Weasley said. “You didn’t kill him, and I’m only angry at the things that the Death Eaters stood for. Or some sort of shite like that. Right, ‘Mione?”

“Yes, some sort of shite like that.”

“Most of what you did was because you didn’t know any better or to protect your family,” Weasley continued. “Or so Harry says. I promised him and I promised ‘Mione that as long as you were civil and friendly, then I would be civil and friendly. Unless you try to kill me again.”

Draco swallowed. “I’m ... I ...”

“We know,” Granger said patiently and actually reached over to pat his knee. “You don’t need to apologize again. You have already today and you did after your trial.”

"I have no desire to fight anymore.”

“I doubt that,” Potter said. “Shown a need, you’ll draw your wand.”

“As will the three of you.”

“Damn straight,” Weasley said and then held out his hand sideways for Draco. “Truce?”

Draco nodded and did not hesitate in taking it.

The scrutiny increased as they climbed from the carriages and headed up and into the castle. It was the quietest Draco had ever remembered the first night of school being. The younger students whispered in groups. Some of the older students glared, some just pondered. A few said hello to the Golden Trio, those from their House.

The Great Hall looked as it always did on the first day of classes, bright from the floating candles. Tables stretched in four rows up to the front where the professors sat, Headmistress McGonagall in the middle.

“Over there,” Granger said and pointed.

There were two tables near the ends of the Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw. A placard rested between the two tables that said, “EIGHTH YEARS.”

“Our own table?” Draco questioned.

Granger shrugged and plopped herself right in the middle of it. Draco sat across from her. Weasley sat next to Granger, and Potter looked conflicted for a moment before sitting next to Draco.

“The Headmistress wanted to make sure that all the students knew who we were,” Granger said. “Apparently we’re the first step to House Unity and respect.”

“Gods among men,” Draco said sagely.

Weasley laughed. At Draco’s joke. Again. It was all so surreal.

Students filed in around them and chatter rose as friends reconnected from the previous years. There were only seventeen eighth years. Draco was the only Slytherin, as he expected. Most were Gryffindors, including Dean Thomas and Seamus Finnigan. He recognized Hufflepuffs Ernie Macmillan, Hannah Abbott and Justin Finch-Fletchley; and Ravenclaws Anthony Goldstein and Terry Boot. The Patil Twins joined their table with another girl wearing Gryffindor robes.

If they all had to share a tower, he was going to have to learn the rest of their names eventually.

Glances and glares came their way more than once.

“All right, Malfoy?” Goldstein asked, sitting in the spot next to him on his other side.

Draco would have sneered. Before. But the truce he made with Weasley extended to them all. He understood that.

“Just fine, Goldstein. You?”

Goldstein did not miss a beat. “It’s been a rough break, but I suppose that’s true for all of us. I’m actually looking forward to blowing up a potion even if it means blisters all over my hands, just for the normalcy of classes, you know?”

Draco nodded. “I do not know what it feels like to blow up a potion,”-- He heard snickers around the table, but it was true. --“but yes. The normalcy of classes will be ... well, more normal than sharing a meal with you lot.”

A few backs stiffened, but Weasley leaned forward and said, “Don’t worry too much, Malfoy. Most of us do know how to use a fork.” He winked.

“Thank Merlin.”

Weasley laughed and the students were called to order. Draco glanced up at the head table. There was a bundle of nervous looking first years pressed together. McGonagall placed the Sorting Hat on its stool. A moment later, it started singing:

It’s all a rather daunting thing,  
Making up the songs I sing  
But on this day of firsts for some  
Remember where we all came from. 

Remember on your first day here  
Quaking in your robes in fear  
Praying for your favorite House  
Placed in the best, not the worst. 

We have learned in a year  
There is no best  
There is no worst.  
We have learned in a year.  
Pain for some.  
Love for all. 

Remember tripping on the stairs  
Learning which ones disappeared.  
Remember rushing to classes late  
And off to Hogsmeade for a break. 

Remember reading books and work.  
Stretching out the last few words  
To make your essay long enough  
Remember what once was tough. 

Our famous founders all were friends  
Godric and Rowena  
Helga and Salazar  
They built this home and made me pure  
To separate you into groups of four  
Groups to work together  
Groups to learn together.  
Groups to remember. 

Two years ago, Draco would have rolled his eyes at the song.

But he remembered. And by the looks on the faces of those that shared his eighth-year table, so did they. For most, that is why they came back.

McGonagall read off the name of the first boy.

“Adam Adams!”

“Blimey,” Weasley muttered. “His parents must have hated him.”

“Shut up, Ronald Bilius,” Granger whispered back, pulling snickers from the others around them.

 _Bilius_ , Draco mouthed at Potter.

Potter smiled widely, the haunted look from before draining from his face.

The Hufflepuffs cheered for Adam Adams, even those at the eighth-year table.

“We cheer for them all,” Granger suddenly said, leaning forward to address everyone at their table. “All of them.”

A few grumbled, but when the next girl became a Slytherin, the eighth-year table cheered the loudest, actually startling the other Slytherins silent for a moment, and then they cheered louder.

After that, every student was cheered by the eighth years, though the Gryffindors did cheer louder for when the student was actually put in Gryffindor and only politely applauded for the Slytherin students.

Draco caught the Headmistress smiling.

As soon as the last student was sorted into Slytherin, McGonagall stood up and used magic to amplify her voice.

“This year will be difficult for many of us. Standing as your Headmistress is an honor for me, and I wish for you to turn the pride shown toward your Houses to pride shown toward Hogwarts. This year, more than any year before, demands a strong sense of unity. We will help one another. We will support one another. This means that if you have grievances, you talk about them. This means that there will be no bullying. This means that you will help someone from a rival House just as quickly as you would help your housemate. I am aware of the incident on the train, where one student attempted to hex another with a strong slashing curse. This is unacceptable. Such antics will result in immediate expulsion for the student. Fighting between us only makes everyone’s lives miserable. We are all here for the same thing: to learn, to grow, to rebuild.

“If you have any issues with the things I have said, you may come and talk to me about them so we can work them out. We have a Mind Healer from St. Mungo's available for anyone that wishes to talk to him about whatever they wish.

“That said, the Houses will still earn and lose points. We will still have Quidditch--” Cheers erupted from this, and McGonagall smiled. “--and we will still have a House winner at the end of the year. The last thing I will discuss is our returning eighth-year students. They were unable to attend classes last year for obvious reasons and they have chosen to return to finish their work. They will be studying hard for their N.E.W.T. exams. I expect the rest of you to respect that. Do not expect them to help you break the rules.” --

Most heads turned toward Potter and Weasley, and Weasley chuckled.

\-- “Do not pester them with questions about their part in the war. Do not pester them with hero-worship and other such nonsense. They are students, the same as you, and all will be held to the same expectations. Now, let’s eat.”

Draco kept his head down during dinner, only replying to direct questions, though those were few and far between. He listened to the others talk about being home during the war, not here at Hogwarts, not in the midst of it all. Granger mentioned their trip to Turkey even if she did not discuss finding Diamber Whetle.

Draco was very thankful when dinner was done and they were allowed up to their dorms. McGonagall may have said no one was allowed to hex him, but he certainly felt their glares.

The eighth-year dorms were about halfway up the Astronomy Tower. Not Draco’s favorite place, considering the failure of his past.

New beginnings, he reminded himself.

Their portrait hole was guarded by the painting of a Centaur.

“Did anyone get a password?” Macmillan asked.

Most of them chuckled.

“I’ll go back and get it from McGonagall,” Granger said.

“No need, my magical friend,” the Centaur said. “I have a riddle for you all, if you guess, you will pass. If you fail, well, you will need to retrieve the password.”

Potter grumbled next to Draco. “I hate stupid magical creature’s confusing riddles.”

“What is the riddle?” Granger asked.

“While not the brightest, its point still shines, to guide you through the southern seas, and if explorations aren’t your thing, perhaps you’d like a cup of tea?”

“Sagittarius,” Draco almost drawled. “The constellation.”

The centaur looked insulted, but the portrait swung open and let them all inside. Draco received a few, “Good one, Malfoy”s and “Well done”s.

Potter said, “Wow. Even before Hermione.”

“Centaurs love a good star riddle,” Draco said. “It was obvious.”

They all stopped in the middle of a very interesting common room. It was a circular room with a four-sided fireplace right through the middle of it, straight up a few stories to the roof. Giant banners from every House hung from the ceiling and the furniture looked like it was borrowed from all four houses too. There were multiple tables for studying and a few shelves along the walls.

Two spiral staircases arched and branched through the room, leading to doorways above them.

As they stared, names appeared above each door.

“Room assignments?” one of the girls asked.

“Must be,” Hermione said. “Hannah, looks like I’m with you.”

Others glanced around, looking for their partners.

Draco saw his name glow silver, right next to _Harry Potter_ glowing an interesting shade of bright green.

Weasley frowned at Potter. “My name is with Neville’s. I guess that means he is coming. But he isn’t here yet. Do you want to room with me until then or will you be okay with the snake?”

Once again, at the insult, the others stiffened, expecting a curse. But Draco knew it wasn’t really an insult. Maybe it was one, but within their new truce, it was one that he could get away with. Draco didn’t care. He happened to like snakes.

But Potter only smiled and said, “You know I’m good with snakes.” He winked at Weasley, who laughed, and so did a few others that picked up on the sexual joke. “It’s fine, Ron. I’m probably the only one here who isn’t going to kill him just on principle.”

“Comforting,” Draco said, glancing around at the others.

“He’s mostly right,” Dean Thomas said. “I don’t want to be expelled. Oi! Justin! Our room’s up at the top. Let’s go.”

Draco followed Potter up the left staircase to the third door. It opened to a spacious room with two large beds on either side and a pair of wardrobes on the walls. A single window separated the two beds with a single desk underneath it. Another door led to a small bathroom, complete with their own shower and toilet.

“Not bad,” Draco said. “Which bed do you want?”

“The one that you’ll be sleeping in,” Potter said and smiled at him. He laughed at the astonished look on Draco’s face. “It doesn’t matter. Just pick one.”

Draco took the bed on the left, Harry the one on the right.

Draco’s sheets were silver, the bedspread and hangings blue. Potter’s bed had pale cream sheets and a darker blue, almost black, bedspread and hangings. Draco dragged his trunk over to the foot of the bed.

“Blimey I’m tired,” Potter said and pulled off his school robe. The baggy T-shirt rode up with it, showing pale scars crisscrossing darker skin.

Draco swallowed and glanced away. “You slept most of the way on the train. How can you be tired?”

Potter removed his shrunken trunk from his pocket and tossed it at the end of the bed. It grew to normal size before hitting the floor. Things clattered inside of it. “Long day yesterday is all. I didn’t sleep much at all last night. Shite, I had no idea we were going to be in separate rooms. I have most of Ron’s stuff in there. I better get it organized before I sleep because I am not going to want to do it tomorrow and have to wake up earlier than necessary.”

Draco unpacked as well, standing up his trunk and opening it next to the wardrobe. He transferred what clothes he needed into the wardrobe.

“Blimey, are those jeans?” Potter asked. “You own a pair of jeans?”

Draco rolled his eyes and held out a stack. “Four pair. If it makes you feel less surprised, they were handmade by our family tailor just for me.”

“Man, even name-brand isn’t good enough for you.”

“Right in one.” Draco stacked his school books on his mattress for a moment. He unpacked all the other necessary things and then closed his trunk, put it back at the foot of the bed and stacked his school books atop it.

“All kidding aside, Malfoy. I’m glad you’re back. I’m glad ... I’m glad. Just ... never mind. I will stop talking before I say something stupid.”

Draco cleared his throat. “I’m glad I’m back too. I’m ... yeah.” He sat on his bed and tried not to listen to Potter rummage around in his trunk.

“I am going to give Ron some of his stuff, at the least the stuff I managed to find. You want to come down and hang out?”

Draco swallowed and shook his head. “Not tonight.”

“Okay. I won’t push. But don’t be a recluse. You have no reason to hide up here. You are not an enemy. Not to me. Not to Ron. Not to Hermione. The others will come around.”

Draco nodded. “Maybe.”

With a soft sigh, Potter left the room. With a heavier sigh, Draco fell back onto his bed.

\---

Draco was still awake when Potter stumbled into the bedroom past midnight. He said nothing, smiling in the dark when Potter ran into the trunk first and then the bed post. His curses echoed through the room. A faint green glow illuminated the room.

Draco turned his head.

Floating among the hangings of Potter’s bed was a ball of green light. It was the same green color as when Potter’s name appeared above the door.

“Shite, did I wake you?” Potter asked quietly. “Sorry.”

“I was not asleep.”

The green light flared a little brighter.

“Are you pissed?”

Potter chuckled. “No. Just ... tired. Really.” He pulled off his T-shirt. The green glow on his skin looked sickly. Bruises smattering over his neck and shoulders and down his chest glowed almost black in the light.

“Are those love bites, Potter? Already?”

Potter cleared his throat. He was probably blushing. “Long night last night, remember?”

Draco thought about that. Potter had arrived at the train with Granger and Weasley. He had most of Weasley’s stuff in his trunk. On the train, his and Weasley’s legs had been wrapped together.

Were they together? Potter and Weasley?

But Granger had been holding Weasley’s hand.

“Should I ask?” Draco finally said in the silence.

“Ask what?”

“If it was the Weasel biting you?”

Potter stilled in the light for a moment and then shucked off his jeans, leaving him in pants and socks. The socks came off. Potter was fit. Short, but fit. Strong shoulders, strong arms. A trim waist. Not nearly the slip of a boy he had been before the war.

The green light disappeared.

Draco figured that Potter was not going to answer his question. He understood. It had been incredibly personal. One day of not fighting nor arguing did not mean they were going to reveal all their secrets to each other. He lay back, arms behind his head and tried to relax. It was so hard to relax in a place that was not the safety of his own home. Or that of the dungeons. He was used to the cooler air and the pure darkness. His silk pajamas felt too stifling all of a sudden. He glanced over at Potter’s bed. Well, he was sleeping in just his pants.

Draco unbuttoned the pajama top. He tightened his stomach enough to sit up and slip it off his shoulders and onto the floor. He kept the bottoms on.

“Would it bother you if I said yes?” Potter asked in the silence.

Draco took a moment to remember the question he had asked before. Bother him? Definitely not. Wizards were not really supposed to be gay, but there were a few of them out there. Draco had no problems at all appreciating a male body and had spent more nights in his Slytherin dorm appreciating his housemates’ cocks than he really cared to admit. At least to anyone else.

“No, it wouldn’t bother me,” he whispered. “Does it bother Granger?”

Potter huffed. “Only when she isn’t around to join.”

“So the Golden Trio is really a trio? In everything?”

“Things were ... rough. On our own. In the woods while we were chasing Voldemort. We sought solace with one another and found it.”

Draco hummed. “Lucky, I guess, to find one person you connect with so well. And you have two. Are you sure you don’t want to room with Weasley for a while? I won’t be insulted.”

Potter actually laughed. “I need to sleep. I know what happens when I’m in a room alone with Ron and it isn’t sleep.”

Draco let himself picture that. Let himself picture the two of them together, Weasley’s long, tall, strong body splayed out for Potter, straddling him, fucking himself on Weasley’s prick. Maybe it was the other way around, though Weasley seemed way more of a top than a bottom.

A few years ago, it would not have been sexy, but Weasley had grown into himself, gotten height and muscle and a swagger that screamed satisfaction. Did those freckles cover everything? Draco wondered.

And Potter. Well, Potter had always been attractive in that sloppy sort of way.

“What about you, Malfoy?”

“What about me?”

“Anyone warming your bed sheets?”

Draco snorted. “Not since fifth year. Sixth year was a mess, and then ... well, after that, it was more of a chore staying away from Death Eaters that thought I was fair game.”

Potter hummed. A noise that was half understanding and half horror.

“I was not ever raped. I learned to stay out of their way. Self-preservation and all that.”

“Self-preservation and yet, you decided to come back to school?” The incredulousness in his voice made Draco smile.

“Point, but I need an O on my Potions N.E.W.T. in order to even think of becoming a Potions Master. Without that, I cannot get the proper paperwork from the Ministry to open my own shop.”

Potter yawned.

“Sleep, Potter. We have class way too early in the morning.”


	2. School Days

Draco woke up disoriented and groggy when his wand trilled at him in the morning. These were not his sheets, this was not his bed, and that was not the right color brick for the wall of the Manor.

Potter moaned from the other bed and said, “Too early.”

Right.

Hogwarts.

Smiling, Draco climbed from bed and headed to the washroom. A sharp intake of breath reminded him that he had slept topless and he glanced over at Potter.

But Potter was turned away from him, body curled around his blanket and not under it. The bites and bruises on his shoulders were purple in the dawn light. The scars looked like white lines painted down his skin.

“I’ll wake you when I’m out of the shower,” Draco said.

Potter grunted something that sounded pained.

Concerned, Draco reached for his shoulder and then stopped. One day of not fighting did not make them friends, he reminded himself. He shook himself and then headed into the washroom. 

He kept his shower short, unsure of this thoughts if he let his hands linger too long on his own skin. He slipped on his green robe and stared at himself in the mirror. He was nowhere near as skinny as he had been just a few months ago, after his trial. He was no longer gaunt and gangly. His hair was getting long, almost long enough for a short ponytail. He pulled it back, away from his face and frowned when strands of it fell right back into his face.

“You know,” Potter said from the doorway, “staring at yourself won’t make you any better looking.”

Draco made a face. “It might. Have you tried it?”

Potter frowned. “Did you just call me ugly?”

Draco chuckled. “No. Just can’t think of a plausible reason for you being so fit. The last time I saw you, you were a skinny little wanker.”

Potter tilted his head and Draco bit his lip against a smile. Gods, Potter’s hair was a mess, a rat’s nest around his head, parts of it sticking straight up. Part of it brushing his neck. His bare neck. Bare chest. Bare stomach. Again dotted with love bites. There was quite a large one complete with teeth marks just at his hipbone. He was only still wearing pants. A dark green pair.

Draco looked back at his reflection.

“Are you done?” Potter asked.

“Admiring myself? No.”

Potter laughed. “Prat. Come on. I do not want to miss breakfast on my first day back.”

Draco ran his hands through his wet hair and sighed. “Should I cut my hair?”

“You’re asking me?” Potter said, coming into the bathroom and going for the shower. The water turned on.

“Yes. I ... I want it long, but I don’t want ...”

“You don’t want to look like your father,” Potter offered.

“Yeah.”

Potter shrugged, and Draco kept his eyes firmly on his reflection and did not turn to watch Potter slip out of the pants. He caught the edge of Potter’s bare ass in the mirror and shut his eyes.

“Ron used to have long hair, but he got tired of me pulling on it.” Potter ducked his head under the water.

Draco thought about that. Thought about Potter pulling on his hair, and his cock twitched. Fuck.

“He looks good with short hair,” Draco said.

“And I’m not sure you could do anything to your hair that wouldn’t look good,” Potter said. “If it makes you feel any better, I don’t think you look anything like your father. You look like Narcissa.”

“Thanks. I guess I could dye it pink,” Draco said.

Potter laughed. “I think I’d pay to see that, Malfoy. Ten galleons?”

Draco laughed. “How long does it have to be pink?”

“A month.”

“No deal. I am not having pink hair for a month.”

“Then leave it like it is. I think you look good.”

Draco cleared his throat and said, “Thanks.” He hurried from the bathroom and sat hard on his bed with his head in his hands. Of all the bloody ... Potter. Of all the blokes, even Dean Thomas was more Draco’s type than Potter. But his traitorous body ... He seriously needed to get laid. And soon. Maybe he’d slip into the Slytherin common room and find a seventh-year to mess around with.

The shower stopped and Draco hurried to dress. Smirking a little, he did as Potter and Weasley did and wore a pair of his jeans and a T-shirt under his school robes. Afterall, the tie was only optional. His mother would be committed to St. Mungo’s if she knew.

Potter left the bathroom starkers and Draco forced his body to stay turned away, not to look. Not to ogle. Not to dream. They were not friends. Potter was in a committed three-way relationship.

He was fucked.

Draco left his hair loose, not even styled, even though it fell into his eyes a little.

“Merlin, Malfoy.”

Draco looked over at Potter who was dressed in baggy clothes and his robe over his shoulders. “What?”

“If I didn’t know any better, I’d have to say someone had warmed your bed last night. You do the ‘just-shagged’ look really, really well. And those jeans are so worth the pompous prat attitude.”

Draco sneered. “Yes, you’ve been mastering the ‘just rolled out of an alley half-pissed’ look since first year.”

Potter laughed. “Come on, let’s get to breakfast.”

Draco finished dressing and followed Potter out of their room and down the stairs to the common room. Granger and Weasley were there, but no one else.

“We were about to come see if one of you hadn’t offed the other in their sleep,” Weasley said.

“Potter woke up at the very last moment,” Draco said.

“As always,” Granger said with a smile. “Let’s get going. I need to make sure I’m not late to the Transfiguration class that I’m helping teach.”

The Great Hall was bustling with excited students. Chatter around the door faltered a little when the four of them walked in, but then came back up as they sat at their table.

“Thought Malfoy might have offed you in your sleep,” Finnigan said and gripped Potter’s shoulder. “Glad you’re still with us, mate.”

Potter smiled. “No worries, guys. Malfoy was such a good boy.”

Draco snorted. “Sod off, Potter,” he muttered quietly.

Potter grinned at him and actually leaned into his shoulder for a moment before food appeared on their plates and they started eating.

“What classes are you in, Malfoy?” Granger asked, holding up her own schedule.

Draco retrieved his schedule from his bag and handed it to Granger. First thing, he had double Herbology, which he was not looking forward to. After lunch, he was in Arithmancy and Transfiguration.

Draco glanced around the Great Hall, and tried not to frown at how very empty the Slytherin tables were. The entire last table was empty. There were none of his friends, and he spotted only four seventh-years that he recognized. He hadn’t really gotten to know anyone younger than that, not more than just bossing them around when he had to.

“Looks like we’re all in Ancient Runes together tomorrow,” Granger said. “I’m not sure even I can handle two hours of that in a row. At least it’s in the morning. I’m sure these two would be falling asleep if it was after lunch.”

“Probably will anyway,” Weasley said.

“Double defence Against the Dark Arts after lunch Tuesday. I think all of us eighth-years are in that class. Double Potions on Wednesday and Charms and Advanced Astronomy.” Granger looked up at him in surprise. “You’re taking Advanced Astronomy?”

Draco nodded. “To help with Potions. A lot of advanced potions can only be brewed at night or when certain stars are visible, moon phases, during eclipses, things like that.”

“Wow, I wonder if I can add that to my schedule,” Granger mumbled. “Thursday is a light day for you. Only Charms and Arithmancy in the afternoon. Friday, Transfiguration again. You and Ron and Harry will be in the same Transfiguration classes. And Potions, again?”

“The class on Friday is specifically for studying ingredients. No brewing.”

“Interesting.” Granger looked over it again and then said, “Wait. Aren’t you teaching?”

“Teaching?” Draco said.

“Yeah. Today, I’m helping Professor McGonagall in her second-year Transfiguration class. Harry is helping Madam Hooch with first-year flying classes. Even Ron is helping Professor Flitwick with Charms. Why aren’t you helping Professor Slughorn? This is not right. All the eighth-years were offered a chance to assist with a class.”

Granger stood up and Draco made a noise.

“If they don’t want me ...”

“Nonsense, Malfoy. These first- and second-years are going to miss out on a great chance to learn from an almost potions master.”

Granger took Draco’s schedule with her and made her way up to the head table.

Draco did not watch, cheeks flushing.

“You weren’t even offered?” Potter asked.

Draco shook his head.

“Some of them,” he waved his hand around the table, “didn’t want to, but they were offered to help teach their strongest subject.”

“House Unity,” Granger’s voice floated over the din. She had actually shouted, and about half the Great Hall quieted and looked over at her for a moment. She spun around, bushy hair flying, and stomped back to their table with a huff.

“Professor Slughorn is willing to let you help teach third years on Friday, after your last Potions class.”

Draco swallowed. He had never wanted to teach. He had only ever wanted his own shop where he could disappear in his lab and only see people when he had to. Helping teach third-years?

“You should do it,” Weasley said. “They’re arseholes for not even inviting you. You should do it and prove them all wrong with whatever assumptions they made for not offering. Arseholes.”

“Ronald,” Granger said.

Draco nodded. “I’ll ... I’ll talk to Professor Slughorn tomorrow. Thank you, Granger.”

“I told you in the carriage, Malfoy, anytime.”

“Let’s get to class, okay?” Potter said. “Herbology first?”

Draco nodded.

“Good,” Potter said. “I’d hate to not be able to see you until lunch.”

Draco had no idea how to respond to that. He looked over at Granger, who only smiled at him. “See you at lunch, Malfoy.”

Draco followed Potter out of the Great Hall and into the throng of students headed for classes. He wanted to say something, but did not know what to say. They were ... almost friends. Maybe? Draco had no idea. Two years ago, he would not have been walking shoulder to shoulder with Harry Potter. Or almost shoulder to shoulder. Draco was taller than him, so it was almost like shoulder to elbow.

“I am actually excited for Herbology,” Potter said. “It’ll be the first class since ... well, never mind that. I guess I’m just excited to be in school again, and this time without some madman trying to kill me.”

“This year will be interesting.”

Potter smiled at him. “It already is. We’ve gone more than a whole day without throwing a hex at each other.”

“That is not on,” Draco said. “We should remedy that.”

Potter laughed. “Okay. Stand still. Let me curse you.”

“You’d be expelled.”

“Expel the Golden Boy? The Headmistress wouldn’t dare.”

“Try it and find out.”

“Naw. I think things will feel more normal if I call you Ferret.”

“Just means I’m going to call you Scarhead.”

“A pet name? That’s so sweet.”

“Sod off, Potter,” Draco said and shoved him with his shoulder.

Potter laughed and flung his arm around Draco’s waist for a quick squeeze. It was just enough and with just enough students in the hallway for things to go silent and stares to come their way.

Draco swallowed. Fuck. His plans to just try to blend in were not going to go well if he kept hanging around the Golden Trio.

Potter led the way into the greenhouse. They were sharing the class with the Hufflepuff and Slytherin seventh-years. There were way more Hufflepuffs than Slytherins, not that Draco found that surprising. The four Slytherins gave him a combination of cool stares, nervous looks, and downright loathing glares. Draco kept his head up, the haughty Malfoy mask firmly in place. None of them would know that he was incredibly nervous, not ever.

There were also a few of the other eighth-years including Macmillan, Corner, Boot, the Patil Twins, and Hannah Abbot.

Professor Sprout directed them to a table with the other eighth years, and they sat down, Draco at the end of the bench so only Potter had to sit by him. He did not want to force his presence on those who did not like him.

But Hannah was across from him and she smiled. “I like you hair like that, Malfoy. You look ...”

“Handsome, devilish, charming, shaggable,” Potter inserted.

Hannah snorted. “I was going to say less stuck up.”

Draco took a deep breath against the automatic insult about her annoying curls and managed to say, “Thank you.”

Professor Sprout called the class to order. “Welcome, everyone. As you may have noticed, I did not require that you bring a textbook to class. This year, we are going to do more hands-on learning. You’ve learned everything you’ve needed to learn from Herbology textbooks. Your entire year is going to be a single project. Each of you will be assigned your own plot of land. You will choose which plants you wish to grow, based on the knowledge you have gained. How well your plants thrive will determine your grade. This is not a point-and-choose type of assignment. As you learned, the soil from previous plantings will determine what grows best in the future. Today you will plan your entire project. You are required to have roots, flowering plants, vines, and shrubs. I will come by each of your tables and check your work and give you advice. Take out a parchment and quill and get to work.”

Potter grumbled. “Where is Neville when you need him? He could plan this for me with his eyes shut.”

“That’s cheating, Potter,” Malfoy said. He already had a good idea of what he wanted to do. He set to work scratching out his ideas and thinking ahead to his Potions classes. What could he grow for Herbology and use in Potions later on in the year? Definitely some moonflowers. He wondered if Professor Sprout would let him use baneberry too, despite its poison. He added it to his list anyway with a question mark after it. Asphodel and Puffapods would grow all year and be helpful in keeping the soil fertile. Halfway through, he remembered his favorite place in the Malfoy gardens and added Maypop flowering vines to grow in the last quarter. Many of his plants were flowering, so he added the spiny-leaved blue holly shrub. Its leaves could be dried and crushed and added to many potions.

Professor Sprout hovered over his shoulder. She pointed at the baneberry and said, “I will allow it, but add mistletoe as well. The two grow well together.”

“Will the mistletoe counter the poison in baneberry?” Draco asked.

Macmillan snorted. “I’m not surprised you’re picking poisonous plants, Malfoy.”

“Be quiet,” Professor Sprout said. “He is going to use them in Potions. I am glad to see at least one of you making connections with Herbology to other classes. And no, they will not, but whatever you brew with the baneberry, you can counter with the mistletoe berries.”

“I was about to add ginger root and boswellia,” Draco said.

“A good choice for winter. They will thrive with your moonflowers. Well done, Mister Malfoy.”

Potter made a face at him. “Show off.”

“Can’t let you get all the glory anymore, Chosen One,” Draco said.

Potter huffed. “Help me.” He pushed his parchment over.

Draco glanced at it and shook his head. “You’re hopeless, Potter. You only have roses on here.”

“I like roses.”

“You don’t even specify what kind. There are too many varieties.”

“Well, which one is the best?”

“We may be on more friendly terms,” Draco said, “but I am not doing your homework for you.”

“That requires sucking on his--”

“Michael!” Potter shouted.

Draco nudged him. “Don’t worry about it.”

Potter huffed and then smiled at him and whispered, “Is he right?”

Blushing, Draco flung Potter’s parchment back at him and then went back to his list to think of one more root to add. He ignored Potter’s soft laughter, but had a harder time ignoring the leg suddenly pressed against his under the table.

After the first half of class, Professor Sprout said, “Most of you are done.” She sort of glared at Potter. “And now comes the second half of the assignment. You will write one foot on each of your chosen items, listing their major properties, characteristics, what they are used for, and other important information. It is possible that during this part of the assignment, you will notice discrepancies and have to readjust your chosen items. Get to work. It is due as homework at the beginning of next week’s class.”

Potter grumbled under his breath.

“Merlin,” Draco said, “are you like this with every subject? I thought you were excited to be in Herbology.”

Potter smiled and winked at him. “I am.”

Confused, Draco stared, and then noted with concern a vine wrapping around Potter’s wrist. He reached to touch it, but Potter shook his head, minutely, and then the vine twisted around itself, became a braid, and then it stilled.

Draco glanced up at Potter and based on the smirk, realized that Potter had done that. He had braided a vine to his wrist as a bracelet without even looking at it and without his wand.

“Potter,” Draco said.

Potter shook his head. “Sorry, Malfoy. I won’t bother you anymore.” He let out a theatrical sigh and went back to his parchment.

So did Draco, but his hand shook as he took notes.

\---

Draco was quiet during lunch, thinking about Potter in Herbology. Granger rambled on and on about how interesting it was to teach instead of being a student. He only talked when Granger asked him about his Herbology project.

Only a few of the eighth-years were in Arithmancy, including Granger, but most were in Transfiguration. Not Granger, though. She was in an Advanced Charms class.

Weasley fell onto the stool next to Draco’s and said, “Bloody hell, why did I think coming back to school was a good idea?”

Draco smiled. “You can’t get everywhere based off your looks, Weasley.”

Weasley stared at him. “Um, I’m pretty sure you just admitted that I was attractive.”

Draco fought back a blush and shrugged. “Anything else would be a lie.”

“And you are not a liar,” Weasley said with a snort.

“I’m not. Bending the truth is not a lie.”

“Are you bent?” Weasley asked with a grin.

“Completely. I think you’re attractive. There must be something wrong with me.”

Weasley laughed and gripped his shoulder just as Potter sat on his other side. “What did I miss?”

“Malfoy thinks I’m fit.”

Potter looked at Draco first and then Weasley. “Well, he isn’t wrong.”

“Yes, but I am taken, aren’t I?”

Potter stared at Draco and said, “Maybe. You’re pretty good at sharing.”

“True.”

Draco cleared his throat. “I ...”

“You don’t like to share?” Potter asked, sweet innocent voice.

Draco swallowed. “Not ... not usually.”

“A spoiled brat,” Weasley said, “used to getting his own way and everything he wants.”

Potter did not say anything to Weasley and just stared at Draco for a bit longer. “I guess that means if you want to share that you will because you always get what you want.”

Weasley snorted.

Draco floundered with what to say. He’s pretty sure he’d just been invited to join their little threesome. He was saved from replying by Professor McGonagall entering the room. She spent half of the class explaining her expectations and the last half of the class going from student to student to test their current Transfiguration skills. Draco had no problems turning the offered teacup into a mouse and then back again, but he struggled with making the table they sat at into a tiger. The tiger was made of wood and its roar sounded like wood splitting.

Potter wasn’t even able to do that much, and Weasley’s teacup still had a tail.

“I can’t ever get rid of the tail,” he muttered.

Draco was glad to note that he had been one of the best in the class. Again. Good. His studying at the Manor during his house arrest had definitely paid off.

Weasley was still whining about the teacup when they arrived at dinner. Granger bit her lip against some sort of lecture. Draco just plopped in his chair and wondered if he was too tired to eat.

“So I forgot to ask earlier,” Granger said. “How was Herbology, Harry?”

Draco choked on his drink.

“That bad?” Granger said in surprise.

Potter smirked. “It was fine. The hardest part was keeping control.”

“Control?” Draco asked. He was ignored.

“But you did.”

“Mostly,” Potter said and shifted his arm enough to show off the vine around his wrist.

“Harry,” Granger said.

Potter grinned. “It was fine. Only Malfoy saw it.”

“I’m confused,” Draco said.

“We already established that when you admitted that I was attractive,” Weasley said.

“What?” Granger demanded.

Draco sighed. “I don’t need to start describing the Weasel’s best qualities, do I?”

“I won’t be opposed,” Weasley said and very obviously flexed his arm, sliding up the sleeve of his robe.

Draco groaned.

Harry chuckled. “He’s very proud of his muscles,” he said. “He’s worked hard for them all summer long.”

Draco concentrated on his dinner.

“And your Charms class?” Weasley asked Granger.

She shrugged. “Fine. Complete control.”

Weasley nodded. “Same with me so far today.”

“Control?” Draco asked again.

He was not ignored, but by the looks they shot each other, they did not know how to explain or they did not want to. Or both.

“Golden Trio secrets,” Draco said. “I guess even after only one day of not hating each other, I’m not privy to those.”

“Oh I don’t know,” Weasley actually drawled. “Harry said he told you about the three of us. That is a very big secret.”

Draco flushed a little and tried to swallow the food in his mouth. It tasted dry.

“And not just his to share. We did not--”

“Shut up, ‘Mione,” Potter said. “You already lectured me about it after lunch.”

Draco kept his head down, eating just a little faster.

“And now you’ve gone and made him uncomfortable,” Potter said. “I’m sharing a room with him. He probably will walk in on it sooner rather than later.”

“Especially when Neville gets here,” Weasley added.

“Or you could spare him that and come up with some sort of signal, like a tie on the door,” Granger said.

Draco cleared his throat and glanced at her. “Trust me when I say I will not mind if I walk in on that.”

Both Potter and Weasley laughed. “Sooner rather than later, right, Ferret?” Weasley said.

Draco swallowed roughly.

Granger still looked upset, shoving at Weasley when he tried to put an arm around her. “You lot of boys ... just ... It’s too soon.”

Potter met Draco’s eyes and said, “I really don’t think it is.”

Draco went back to his dinner. He had no idea what that comment meant. The three of them were hiding something big. Something about Potter’s wandless magic. Something about Weasley’s muscles. Something about the vine on Potter’s wrist. Something about control.

Dinner suddenly tasted foul.

“Let’s get up to the common room,” Potter said. “Professor Sprout is brutal already and it’s only the first week.”

“McGonagall gave me extra work to catch up in Transfiguration. Help me, ‘Mione.”

Granger took a deep breath. “Fine, but after I finish my Charms work.”

Draco stayed seated as the other three stood. He meant to wait until they were already gone, but Potter tugged on his arm.

“Come on, Malfoy. You can help me with Herbology.”

Draco snorted. “There’s really no help for you if you don’t actually want to do the work.”

Potter grinned. “So maybe I just want to share your table and lean close to you while we work.” He winked.

Draco flushed. Only one day of not being enemies did not mean that Potter was allowed to flirt with him. Not so obviously anyway.

But it appeared that Draco had no control over what Potter did. And by Granger’s pursed lips and glare in his direction, neither did she.

With a sigh, Draco knew he was lost and he stood up to follow the Golden Trio back to their eighth-year tower.

The first two days at Hogwarts were nothing like he had thought they’d be. They were ... better. Filled with talking and banter. He’d thought he’d spend the next year alone. But this was better. Potter did not hate him. Weasley had not hexed him. Granger seemed to have forgiven him for the shite he pulled all through school. He did not deserve any of their forgiveness, but they were Gryffindors and gave it to him anyway.

He smiled when Potter turned, probably to make sure he was still following. Draco had a feeling that the rest of this year was going to be full of following Potter. Or walking next to him.

He vowed to write a letter to his mother tonight to tell her that he just might be friends with Harry Potter. Maybe. And well, maybe he’d leave out the part where he thought Potter was pretty fit and Weasley had gotten handsome and Granger had gotten prettier. And definitely leave out that Potter thought he was shaggable.

In the common room, Draco headed for the stairs. A firm hand gripped his arm and he tensed up, turning to Potter.

“No recluse, remember?”

Draco rolled his eyes. “I’m going to drop off my shite in the room, Potter. I’ll be back.”

“Promise?”

“He doesn’t lie,” Weasley said. “He’s bent.”

Draco laughed at the look on the other two’s faces and headed up the stairs.

“What does that mean?” Potter asked.

Draco did not hear Weasley’s reply. He settled his bag on the top of the shared desk and moved to his wardrobe to take off his cloak. He stood in front of the mirror for a moment, pondering his reflection. He was in nothing more than jeans and a T-shirt. He had not even noticed all day how incredibly comfortable he had been. Did he dare show himself in public this way?

Chuckling, he decided that yes, he dared.

He pulled his Herbology notes out of his bag and grabbed a few of his old books that he had brought when there wasn’t a Herbology textbook listed. He was so glad. There was no way he’d be able to do his best on this essay without them, and he hadn’t wanted to spend time in the library if he could help it.

When he opened the door to the bedroom, he noted Potter turning away. Smirking, he headed down the stairs. Potter had waited, watched for him.

This was so weird. But Draco enjoyed it. He was actually incredibly happy that this year had gotten off to a good start. And it was thanks to the Golden Trio.

Potter sat at a desk, and Draco sat in the chair next to his, not bothering to move it away for space. They were almost pressed together, and when Potter’s foot touched his leg, Draco did not react, did not jerk away. He settled his books up and his notes.

“Thank Merlin,” Potter said and pulled one of Draco’s books to him. “I did not want to go to the library.”

“Same here,” Draco muttered.

“Help me.”

Draco glanced at the scrawl on Potter’s parchment and sighed. “You don’t even have your items picked yet. Seriously, Potter.”

Potter made a face at him. “Help me.”

“I am not doing your homework.”

“I will suck your dick.”

Draco flushed and shoved him. “Shut up and just get to work. No wonder Granger is always so frazzled with you two lazy arses as her best friends. It’s only day one.”

Potter sulked, but when Draco did not look up from his own essay (and maybe his hand was shaking a little more than before), Potter got to work.

To Draco’s surprise, the next time he looked over, Potter was already working on the first of his one foot essays.

“See what happens when you just sit down and do it?” Draco asked.

“Rather be doing you,” Potter muttered.

Draco cleared his throat. “Am I going to spend the entire year rejecting your advances?”

“Only if you don’t give in.”

Draco glanced behind them, at Weasley and Granger curled up together on the couch. “What about the other two thirds of your soul?”

“No reason why I can’t have another three fourths of a soul.”

Draco sighed. “I ... You’re seriously fit, Potter, but ... I am not even comfortable calling you by your first name yet.”

Potter sighed. “You can, you know.”

“I know. But we’ve only been ... not enemies--” He balked at the word ‘friend.’ “--for two days.”

“Well, you know Gryffindors. We rush into everything when we know what we want and we know that we’re right even if we aren’t.”

“And Slytherins are paranoid, cautious, self-serving snakes.”

Potter laughed. “You said it, not me.”

Draco smiled. “I ... I’m glad we aren’t fighting. I had a goal this year to not even say a word to you.”

“I’m glad that didn’t work out.”

“Me, too. Can I ask about the vine on your wrist?”

Potter smiled and touched it. The thing wriggled on his wrist, going looser. Draco stared wide eyed as it wormed over the tabletop and then went around his wrist instead. It tightened just enough and when Draco managed to touch it, he noticed no seams, no breaks, just a circle of green vine that was very much alive even though it’d been cut hours before.

Draco started at Potter with his mouth open.

Potter winked at him. “Get back to work, Malfoy.”

But it was difficult. He watched Potter work. Despite the grumbling and propositioning, Potter wrote quickly through his first essay and then on to his second. He had added raspberry bushes to his list, and Draco frowned. He did not have any fruit bushes beside the poisonous ones. Maybe he should had one. A Huckleberry bush, maybe. He’d ask Professor Sprout.

What felt like too many hours later, Granger reminded him of his Arithmancy homework that was due in their next class. He sighed and put up his Herbology essay. Potter was already halfway done with his.

“Thanks the gods,” Potter said. “You two have fun with numbers crap.”

“You have it tomorrow,” Granger reminded him.

Potter groaned and plopped his head on the table. “Why did we come back to school?”

“It was your idea,” Weasley reminded him.

Potter turned his head enough to meet Draco’s eyes and smile. “Yes, and I only regret it when there is homework.”

“Get up to bed, Harry,” Granger said. “You’ve overworked yourself today.”

“A bit,” Potter agreed. He stood up with a yawn and a stretch that had the baggy sleeves of his tee riding almost to his armpits.

Draco wondered what that soft skin tasted like, what it would feel like to bite it, mark it. Or add to the bites and marks. He flushed and glanced down at his Arithmancy textbook.

“Don’t stay up too late being the life of the numerology party,” Potter said and hip-checked him before he left.

Draco swallowed down his retort, mentally said, sod it, and shouted after him, “Don’t jerk off in my bed, pervert.”

Potter laughed.

Granger sat in his vacated spot with a heavy sigh. “I understand you have questions.”

Draco snorted and shook his wrist to show Granger the vine. “He sent that to my wrist like a worm. There’s no break, no seam, and it’s perfectly alive.”

“Yes, well, you know Harry’s always been a bit of a show off.”

“True.”

“Harry wants to tell you right now. He wanted to tell you on the train. But ... we cannot. You have to understand, Malfoy. It’s huge.”

“Wandless magic huge. So I saw. And you’re forgetting, Granger. I am a Slytherin. Self-preservation is what I do. I am curious, but I am not going to pry. If you lot of lions want me to know, you’ll tell me when you’re ready.”

“Harry ...” Granger glanced up at the closed bedroom door. “Harry is really strong. An extraordinarily powerful wizard. But he is stronger when he’s surrounded by friends. By those he is connected to.”

The hint in her voice stopped Draco’s breath. “And you think we’re connected?”

Granger smiled. “There’s no way that the two of you spent so much time at each other’s throats to not have some connection.”

Draco had a very graphic image of his mouth connected to Potter’s throat and he shivered. “Maybe.”

Granger smiled and then groaned quietly. “Can you believe we have to write a two-foot essay after just one class?”

“Does that mean you’re going to write four?”

Granger snorted. “No. I learned in my last year that more doesn’t always mean better.”

Draco thought about the last two days, surrounded by a bunch of Gryffindorks. “In some things it does.”

“Yes. In some things.”

They worked in silence for a little while before Granger asked him a question about a series of numbers she was working with. The calculation looked good to him and he fought the urge to copy it. His own was not quite what Professor Vector had expected. He did not change the numbers, but made sure in his explanation that he said that he was sure there was a different solution.

“I am knackered,” Weasley said. “I’m off to bed.

“I better go too,” Granger said. “It’s always good to be on time on the first day of class, but the real test is day two.”

Draco smiled. “Yeah. Day two is going to bring more work.”

“I make these two homework schedules. I can do that for you if you want.”

Weasley snorted, and Draco shook his head. “I can keep track of my own work, Granger.”

Granger smiled at him. She let Weasley stand tall and firm and used his arm to get up. She only protested a little when he swooped her into his arms and headed for her room.

“Your room,” Granger whispered.

“No complaints,” Weasley said and turned abruptly to go up the other stairs.

Draco sighed and glanced down at his essay. He really had wanted to finish it tonight. Maybe he’d wake up early and finish it before classes. But no, he had to talk to Professor Slughorn before classes started.

During lunch then.

Draco gathered up the rest of his papers and headed up the stairs. Only Macmillan was still in the common room, his head bobbing over a textbook. First day exhaustion. Draco had missed it.

He entered his room silently and stopped in awe, quick to shut the door. There was a faint green glow everywhere, emanating from a small ball of light above Potter’s bed. It was enough to see, and when Draco moved to the desk, it brightened a bit. Just in that spot. When he moved to his wardrobe to change in his pyjamas, the brightest part of the light followed him.

It felt comfortable ... cool. Like the touch of grass on your back when you laid back and looked at the clouds.

He thought of casting a Lumos when he sat at the desk, but the light flared in just the right spot for him to see his parchment and quill. He wrote a note to his mother.

_Dear Mother,_

_You will not believe all that has happened and not happened to me in the last two days. You will not believe it even if you saw it happen. I still have not quite admitted that such a turn of events was even possible._

_You have been worried about me, and rightly so. The other Hogwarts student treat me with barely concealed disdain. But Headmistress McGonagall has threatened every student with immediate expulsion if there are any hexes cast at any student. Me included._

_While that is good protection, the most unlikeliest form of protection has come from the most unlikeliest of people. Harry Potter, Hermione Granger, and yes, even Ronald Weasley. Imagine my surprise when Harry Potter opened the warded door to my train compartment and invited himself in to sit with me. His lack of manners was not surprising, but everything else was. He sat next to me and went to sleep. He shared a chocolate bar with me. Granger and I had a very civil discussion on Ancient Runes and Potions, and Ronald Weasley called me Ferret as a joke._

_Unbelievable, but true. I swear by it, Mother. The Golden Trio and I are getting along. We have not fought nor thrown curses or even insults at each other. I sat through a double Herbology lesson with Harry Potter by my side and neither of us attempted to cause the other to screw up._

_I told you I meant to keep my head down, meant to keep out of the spotlight, but these three have dragged me right into it. Granger stopped a nasty slashing hex on the train that was headed to my face. She defended me to the other professors to give me the opportunity to assistant teach like all the other eighth-years. Potter has walked down the hall with me, by my side, and done nothing but smile at me. And Weasley laughs at my jokes. Of all the crazy notions ..._

_I keep waiting to wake up. It is too good to last. Maybe they are setting me up. Maybe they are waiting until my guard is down. I could not bear it if it all turned into a joke._

_I may have friends in the Golden Trio. I sat tonight with Potter and discussed plants. And then with Granger and discussed runes, arithmancy and numerology. She is a brilliant witch._

_And Potter ... Harry ... we are sharing a room. The eighth-years each share a room with one other student, and Harry is sharing my room. He is in bed now, sleeping, and it’s just so strange that he is willing to be vulnerable in the same space as me. He actually trusts me. After all I have done to him and his friends. I fight the urge to feel complacent after only two days of a possible friendship._

A whimper from Potter’s bed stopped Draco’s quill and he turned to watch.

Potter had flung himself out from under the blankets. The dim light turned his skin a darker green. He again only wore pants. His arms twitched, and then his body moved, jerking almost violently.

Something slithering on Draco’s wrist had him jerking his arm back. The vine. The vine was spinning, faster and faster as Potter twisted with his dreams.

Worried, Draco stood up and headed to the bed. A few paces away, Potter’s body arched, head and feet still on the bed, everything else in a perfect bow.

Draco shouted in surprise and climbed onto the bed with just enough time to get his arms around Potter’s stomach and then he collapsed. Draco shook him, said, “Potter, wake up” over and over. Panic overwhelmed him because if anything happened to Potter, everyone would blame him. Everyone would think that Draco attacked him.

The green light flickered and then pulsed, dark light dark light dark light.


	3. Sexy Secrets

Potter remained unresponsive. And quiet. His body was thrashing in turmoil. But he made no noise. No screams. No moans.

And he didn’t wake up no matter what Draco tried. The movements became even more violent, knocking Draco in the arm and then the head. He shouted again and again at Potter, and then desperately screamed, “Weasley! Granger!”

He had no idea if they heard him, so he shouted it again, and then again, until the door slammed open.

Weasley was there first, pulling both Potter and Draco into his arms. Almost immediately, Potter stilled, whimpered and then shivered. The violent quaking stopped, and just smaller jerks twisted between them.

“Thank, Merlin,” Draco breathed even though Potter was not awake yet.

“What happened?” Granger asked.

Draco shook his head, realizing he was leaning against Weasley’s shoulder and not really caring. “I ... I don’t know. He just started thrashing.”

“What were you doing?”

Draco turned his head to the desk. “Writing my mother a letter to post tomorrow.”

Granger slipped from the end of the bed. Her paler skin glowed in the dim green light, showing her wearing nothing more than what looked like one of Weasley’s Chudley Cannons T-shirts. And Weasley was naked.

Circe’s tits, and here was Draco practically pressed up against him. His body stiffened and he tried to pull away, but Weasley held on, tightening the hold around his shoulder.

“Don’t,” Weasley said. “Harry needs you right here.”

Draco seriously doubted that since it was Weasley’s touch that finally calmed him.

“Do you mind?” Granger asked, gesturing at the letter.

Draco tried to remember if what he had written was something horrible.

Potter took a deep breath between them. “Draco?” he whispered.

Draco swallowed and couldn’t speak. He didn’t have to. Potter twisted in Weasley’s strong arms and ended up with his face pressed to Draco’s silk pajama top, messy hair tickling Draco’s chin.

“Are you all right?” Potter mumbled against his chest.

Draco snorted. “Me?”

Weasley shushed him with a noise and used one hand to rub up and down Potter’s bare back. “You sort of freaked out, mate.”

Potter stiffened and then pulled away, or as far away as he could get with Weasley still trying to cling to him. “Bugger,” he whispered, leaning his head on Weasley’s shoulder.

Draco felt the ache in his knees from the strange position and he turned, sitting cross-legged instead of half-kneeling and half-leaning over. He was very aware of Weasley’s naked skin, and very aware of the way his hand was sliding over the front of Potter now, fingertips light against his breast bone, palms sliding over muscle and nipples.

Potter’s breathing changed. Just enough, and Draco swallowed and bit his lip hard against a whimper when Potter mewled. His hips were moving, pressing back against Weasley.

An incredibly feminine hand slid over Draco’s shoulder and hooked loosely around his neck as Granger settled in behind him, breasts against his back.

“We are not playing with you, Malfoy.”

“Should be,” Potter grumbled, sighing when Weasley twisted a nipple.

Chuckling, Granger leaned against his shoulder, her bushy hair tickling his neck. “We are not setting you up. We do want to be friends with you. We promise.”

Potter mewled again, drawing Draco’s eyes to Weasley’s hand pressing hard against the bulge in his boxers.

“Harry has ... well, he needs to let out a bit of ... power,” Granger tried. “You were upset while writing that letter, and Harry picked up on it. We need to take care of him. We’ll take him to Ron’s room so you can get some sleep.”

Potter protested, his eyes and the room flashing bright green for a moment and then fluttering shut at Weasley’s bite to his neck. The bites from before had gotten darker.

“He ... he doesn’t ... mind. Draco doesn’t mind,” Potter said, almost pleading for it to be true.

Draco swallowed, very aware of the way his silk bottoms were tented.

“Please, please.” Potter gripped Weasley’s arm and pressed back against him firmly. “Please.”

“He is asking you,” Weasley suddenly said.

Draco’s eyes went wide. “I ... what? This ... huh?”

“Eloquent,” Granger said with a small laugh. “Harry does not do well being surrounded by so much magic without a way to release it sometimes. We thought the night before classes was enough for the week, but obviously, we underestimated the amount of magic Hogwarts has when full of students and not just a few witches and wizards rebuilding. We are the only ones that can corral it.”

“Don’t leave, please, don’t leave. Stay. I need ... please.”

Granger sighed at Potter’s desperate whispers. “It’s too soon, Harry.”

“He isn’t going to understand reason in this state, ‘Mione,” Weasley said.

Granger buried her face against Draco’s shoulder again, her breath warm on his neck, and then she straightened. “Harry wants you here. Even if you don’t touch him ....” She trailed off and crawled over to the other two. She kissed Potter first, and Potter groaned into her mouth. He reached for her, but Weasley held his hands back, a forceful tug, and the three of them shifted.

Potter ended up on his knees, facing Draco, bent over from the firm grip Weasley had on his wrists. Granger trailed her hands over Potter’s skin.

And Potter stared at Draco, a hungry light in his eyes. A green light in his eyes. He whimpered.

A firm slap of skin on skin had both Potter and Draco jumping.

“Come on, Harry. Restraints.” Weasley spanked him again.

Potter whined. “Touch. I want to touch him.”

“No. Not until your head is clear.”

Potter whined again.

Draco had no idea what was going on, but a moment later, Weasley let go of his arms, and Potter’s hands stayed behind his back.

Weasley yanked him upright by the shoulders and wrapped his arms around Potter’s chest and stomach. The closest hand slipped into his pants and gripped his cock, and Draco felt his own cock pulse in his clothes.

Bugger.

There was a flare of red light, not green, and a faint hint of smoke. Potter gasped and cried out Ron’s name. Weasley chuckled and used his longer fingers to curl around Potter’s now bare cock.

Did Weasley ... just burn his pants off?

Draco swallowed. He had no other explanation and didn’t rightly care, eyes glued to the way that Weasley worked at Potter’s cock. Slow strokes. A firm grip. A harsh drag. Pausing to pinch the tip on every other upstroke. Potter wasn’t long, but had some girth to his prick. Potter was already leaking, the stream of liquid glowing green in the light.

“‘Mione,” Potter whimpered.

Granger kissed his shoulder. “Sh, love. This is about you.”

He whined again as Granger moved in front of him, and Draco frowned, having his view blocked. It gave him just enough mental capacity to realize that Weasley’s shirt did not quite cover the curves of Granger’s ass, or the slope of her thighs. He swallowed deeply.

Granger put her arms around Potter, probably to keep him steady. By the movement of her arms, she was kneading his ass while they kissed.

Weasley sat back against the headboard, legs stretched on either side of Potter and he put his hands on Potter’s hips. “Come on, baby. Come on. You need this.”

“I need Draco,” Potter said with a pout, and it was almost cute how his eyes sought Draco’s again, how his lower lip protruded for a moment before his eyes shut in bliss with an open-mouthed sigh.

Granger moved again, settling right against Weasley’s body, and Draco gasped at the vision the three of them made, Granger mostly naked, Weasley completely naked, his cock jutting from a wild mess of deep red curls, and Potter was naked.

Except for the green vines that snaked around his hips, coiling over his thighs. Another two curled over his shoulders, the tips twisting just enough to snag at his nipples with dull thorns. A small tendril went to his cock, wrapping it up, spreading his balls apart and tightening, before wiggling its way into the slit and the small hole at the tip.

Harry moaned and sagged back, almost falling, but the vines tightened, keeping him up.

“Beautiful, baby,” Weasley said. “‘Mione’s already got you all cleaned out and slick for my dick. Come sit on me.”

Potter gasped and shuffled back, legs spreading as he went. It was an odd angle, but neither really cared when Potter was pressed against him. The vines let him shift enough to get his legs in front of him, knees bent. Weasley’s hands kept him up, and Potter’s head rolled against Weasley’s shoulder.

Potter shivered in anticipation.

Draco held his breath.

Weasley had a nice cock, which was so not fair. Tall, muscular and hung? Draco fought not to be envious. His own dick was rather long, but nowhere near as thick as Weasley’s.

“Come on, baby,” Weasley said again, kissing Potter’s shoulder.

Potter took a heavy breath and then spread his legs and lifted his ass. Everything was still for a moment, and Draco licked his lips, eyes on Weasley’s cock.

Weasley must have noticed because he suddenly moved, gripping behind Potter’s knees and hefting him up until Potter wasn’t on the bed at all, just supported against Weasley’s chest and the firm grip on the back of his thighs. Potter cried out and then shivered when Weasley’s cock slid between his arsecheeks.

Draco gaped at the way Potter’s hole tightened in anticipation, clenching around nothing. The green light flickered over the lubricant dripping from him, and a single tendril of a vine slipped over the rim of his body. Granger wrapped her hand around Weasley’s dick and held him steady while guiding Potter to it with a hand on his hip.

The wide head squelched into Potter, and Potter cried out, tensing and pushing down all at once, and taking more than half of Weasley’s long prick into him.

Draco whimpered, and his hand went right to his own dick when Weasley pulled out, stretching the red rim of Potter’s body before thrusting back in. Slowly. Too slowly. Another small thrust and Potter sank down further.

“So good, baby,” Weasley whispered. “Are you watching Malfoy? He’s touching himself because you’re so sexy.”

Potter’s eyes flew open. They were even greener than before, and the desperate look on his face turned into one of wildness. A flare of magic twisted around Draco, and he shivered.

“That’s why his arms are behind his back,” Granger said. She waved her hand, and Draco could suddenly see the magic. Green swirled around Potter, intermingling with red streaks of what looked like flame. Granger, with her hand high, pulled all of it toward her, swallowing it up in a rippling portal of blue.

“Draco, Draco, Draco,” Potter said again. Pleading again.

Draco whimpered and shifted forward. But Granger held out her hand. “Don’t. I don’t ... I don’t know what he’d do to you right now, and he rather likes your magical signature. I’d hate for him to drain it.”

Drain ... what?

Draco swallowed.

Potter screamed his name again.

Draco did not move forward, but he shifted enough to push down his pajamas and pants, enough to free his cock, stroke himself off to the sight of Weasley splitting Potter open, the sight of that green glow on the wet and swollen rim of Potter’s arsehole. He wondered if Potter could take them both if he shoved his dick in next to Weasley’s, kissed Potter breathless while they fucked into him. Magic swirled around him, ratcheting up his pleasure, pulling his orgasm through him faster than he thought possible.

Draco shuddered, falling to sit on his feet, his other hand firmly planted on the bed behind him. He threw his head back with a cry, hips jerking up into his hand, and pulsed his release all over the bedspread.

Potter whimpered for him again.

Draco opened his eyes, just in time to see the vines slide off Potter’s dick, and pulses of come shoot from the slit, spraying all around them.

Weasley growled and moved, shoved Potter forward, and with his hands still tied, he fell to the bed, turning his face, pressing it into the bed. Weasley gripped his hips too tight and thrust, fucking into him, making the entire bed shake. Potter whimpered and his body shuddered again, more spunk splattering from his dick. He sagged boneless into the mattress and Weasley groaned, his hips faltering, head thrown back as he filled Potter up, still moving, the messy noise echoing around them.

And then Granger was there, shoving Weasley back to his ass and straddling his lap. Their lips met just as Granger sank down on him, and Weasley groaned, knees bending, fucking up into her. One hand supported her back and then other went to her front, arm moving like he was rubbing her clit. She moaned and then broke away from him with a cry, collapsing all at once as she came.

Draco was the first one to talk in the following silence.

“Bugger me,” he whispered.

Weasley opened an eye and smirked at him. “Give me five minutes and I will.”

Draco laughed. “What the fuck was that?”

And his smile fell when Weasley moved his hand and there was a very obvious burnt handprint right in the back of the T-shirt.

His eyes widened. Vines. Fire. Ripples of blue magic. Water?

“Fuck,” Draco said and would have scrambled off the bed if he had any energy. And if a shaking hand had not settled on his ankle. He looked down at Potter who was no longer spewing magic, though his eyes were almost spinning with green. He had a grin on his face. Happy and content.

“Fuck. Potter. Fuck. You guys are elemental wizards. What ... how ... what ... fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck.”

Potter frowned and tried to crawl to him and only managed to get his head on Draco’s thigh.

Draco buried his face in his hands and tried to breathe. This was huge, Granger had said.

“Bullocks, bugger, and tit bags. This ... what ...”

“Malfoy, please ... just ...” Granger shut her eyes. “Harry, did you do this on purpose?”

Draco glanced down at him, at the very satisfied smile on his face. He buried his face up closer to Draco’s hip, where his cock was still dangling from his bottoms. He hastily put it away, biting his lip against a smile from the pout on Potter’s face.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Potter said sweetly.

“Baby,” Weasley admonished.

Potter’s arm went around Draco’s waist and he curled up against him with a happy hum, face pressed to his stomach.

“Damn it, Harry,” Granger said.

“I didn’t have a nightmare on purpose. I didn’t do it on purpose,” he said, voice muffled. “But I’m not going to complain about the results. I wanted to tell him on the train.”

Draco swallowed and put his hands on Potter’s bare skin. One at his side. The other ... well, the other found its way from the back of Potter’s neck and into that messy, soft hair. He scratched, and Potter almost purred in contentment, curling even closer to him.

Granger sighed. “You manipulative, almost-Slytherin.”

“Huh?” Draco asked.

Weasley laughed. “Harry-mate was almost Sorted into Slytherin his first year.”

Draco sat stunned, because that was easier to contemplate than the three of them being elemental wizards. The Sorting Hat wanted him in Slytherin? How different would their lives be now if that had happened?

“We should explain,” Granger said, settling against Weasley’s chest. His arms went around her, one up the shirt to cup at a breast. Draco watched his fingers twist and tug at her nipple. She was breathless as she spoke. “We ... we weren’t going to come back to Hogwarts. During the rebuilding, we found ...” She glanced at Potter. “Well, we found some books, historical documents and artifacts, and ... the Founders, all four of them, were elemental wizards. They ... before they built Hogwarts, they formed a bond, the strongest one they knew--”

“ _Ventus Aqua Terra Ignis_ ,” Draco breathed. “The Bond of Elements. That ... that’s a ...”

“Myth?” Granger said. “So I thought too. Until ...” She shut her eyes. “It was the most powerful bond, the most permanent, the most perfect. I wanted it. We all wanted it. After the war, we needed it, to just ... So many people died and left us. So many more will. We vowed that if one of us went, all of us would go. A magical pact was not strong enough.”

“That’s why you went to Turkey,” Draco said. “The theories surrounding Whetle’s research are always about elements.”

Granger nodded. “The books and notes I found here led me there, and then back here again. The Founders made the oath, long after Diamber Whetle was gone. They were all connected, until ...”

“Salazar Slytherin left,” Draco whispered. “He left ... how did he leave the bond?”

Granger met Draco’s eyes. “He severed himself from it. I do not know how. The bond continued in the other three. When I learned that, I knew it was possible. That the three of us could do it.”

“We almost died,” Weasley said suddenly. “Harry is the only thing that kept us together while our souls knitted, while our powers changed, while our magic warped. I have never felt pain like that before. Harry is so strong. His magical core is like a beacon of green. Hermione thinks that he has always been connected to Terra, to the ground, to the Earth.”

“Fire,” Draco said and nodded at Weasley and waved at Granger, “Water.”

Granger smiled and held out her hand. A spinning ball of clear water rose above her palm. Potter whimpered in his lap and turned his head. Granger sent the water there and held it until Potter had sucked and swallowed it.

“It worked. And ... the three of us are now connected forever. It is what we have always wanted.”

“But?” Draco said.

Granger took a deep breath and tilted her head back. “My power and Ron’s power balance each other. Harry doesn’t have a balance, not in the same way. It takes both of us to keep him calm sometimes, like tonight.”

“You’re missing your Ventus,” Draco whispered.

Granger nodded. “The bonding hurt so much and almost failed because we tried it with three and not with four. Harry has had horrible nightmares since then, that I’m sure you saw tonight. His plants rip him apart, rip us apart, or he loses control and buries us in mounds of soil. So far, they are just dreams, but in a few of them, there’s someone there, something there, something silvery and grey, like the morning fog on the ocean, that keeps Harry from destroying us all.”

“He has said from the beginning that something, someone, is missing,” Weasley said, staring pointedly at Draco.

Draco looked down at Potter in shock.

“Harry was determined. We just barely kept him from invading Malfoy Manor. He’s even more impetuous and careless now, without a balance to his Terra. We weren’t going to come back to Hogwarts,” Granger said, “not until we learned that you were going to. He wanted you. He needs you.”

“I can’t ... I ...” Draco tried to move, breathe, get away.

Potter whined and clung more tightly to him.

“Baby,” Weasley whispered and tugged at his arm. “You knew he might say no.”

Potter hid his face in the blankets and finally released Draco with a heavy sigh.

No? Draco hadn’t said no, but said no to what? To ... a fourth. Their fourth? The ...

“Blimey,” Draco said and his body finally realized he was not breathing properly and his eyes rolled back and he toppled off the bed.

\---

Draco woke up, groggy and muffled, and noise was too loud and the green glow of light was too bright. Almost as soon as he thought that, it dimmed.

“Drink,” a soft voice whispered, and he swallowed a few heavy mouthfuls of the purest water he’d ever tasted.

A weight on his chest had him looking down when his vision was clear. He saw nothing more than a black mess of hair.

Potter.

Draco smiled, hand falling to Potter’s head without really thinking about it.

“You okay?” Weasley asked, leaning over him from behind him.

Draco shut his eyes. “I don’t know. Was that a dream?”

“Nope.”

“Then I’m not okay.”

Potter stiffened against him.

“Why me?” Draco whispered. “Why ... why not ...”

“Because you’re the only one that Harry sees in his dreams,” Granger said.

Potter shifted against him and Draco opened his eyes. His hand was still in Potter’s hair. He smiled, and Potter grinned back. “I ... I’m sorry. I thought I could control it. Hermione said not to tell you until ... until we were friends. I really want to be friends with you, Dra-Malfoy.”

Draco sighed and put his other hand behind his head, but he had forgotten that Weasley was there and his hand hit warm _hot_ skin, and Weasley shifted a bit closer until Draco’s head was on his thigh, his arm wrapped around Weasley’s waist. A still very naked Weasley.

“We definitely do not want to dupe you. We don’t want you to think we’re lying. We ... we need you,” Granger whispered. “Harry ... he can control it mostly now, but the power is getting stronger and the nightmares worse, and ...”

“They’re afraid I’m going to go bonkers and land myself in St. Mungo’s.”

“All three of you should be there,” Draco almost snapped. “An elemental bond? Seriously? You’re all crazy messing with that amount of magic.”

Potter laughed and snuggled back up against his chest, his fingers slipping under the silk pajama top. “Crazy, yes, but together. Together is what is important.”

“Wait,” Draco said. “So you’re a plant wizard and you complained and whined in Herbology?”

Potter laughed. “Just for show. It was so hard not to just fall into a Devil’s Snare and let it keep me.”

“Our magic is different now,” Granger said. “Some of it is more powerful than before, but I still am pants at Potions. So while you were our main goal in coming to Hogwarts, we decided--”

“We?” Weasley muttered.

Granger huffed. “Yes, we decided to get our N.E.W.T.s anyway.”

Potter shifted again, this time going up Draco’s chest until they were eye to eye, and Draco bit his lip against a moan knowing that Potter was still fucking naked and splayed out over the top of him.

Potter grinned and then leaned down and pressed their lips together.

Draco sat stunned for a moment and then kissed him back, pulling at the mop of hair that was just in bunches all around them.

Granger made a noise of protest, but Weasley told her to shut it. “It’s fucking gorgeous. I love watching Harry kiss you, but this ... I just want to shove my dick between their lips and let them fight over my spunk while I cover their faces in it.”

Draco turned his head and blushed.

Potter smiled. “Any chance you’ll call me Harry now?”

Draco swallowed and tugged at his hair. “Any chance you’re going to tame this mop?”

Potter laughed. “I’ll try. If you call me Harry.”

Draco pulled Potter back to his chest and hugged him. It still felt so weird. Everything was off kilter, but perfect. Potter’s breath was warm on his neck. A hot hand was suddenly in his hair, just playing, not pulling, and a cool wave of magic wrapped around all of them.

It was ... just so perfect. So welcoming. So secure. Acceptance. He understood. Wanting to keep this forever. This feeling of being together.

And Draco squeezed his eyes shut, trying not to cry and failing.

Concerned, Potter rubbed at his chest and kissed his cheek and down his neck.

“Harry,” Draco said and licked his lips. “I ... I can do that. But the Weasel better not call me baby.”

Weasley laughed and tugged on his hair. “We already have a pet name for you, remember, Ferret?”

Draco tilted his head up and looked at him. “Yeah.” He wondered if Weasley was going to kiss him, or Granger too. He ... he definitely didn’t want to ... well, mostly didn’t want to. It’s not like either of them were hideous, but he was more okay with turning his head and sucking Weasley’s cock into his throat than kissing him.

But Potter. Harry. Draco pulled Harry back to his mouth for another longer, proper snog.

\---

They slept together, on Draco’s bed. And Draco woke up to blazing heated skin on one side of him, and teasing touches of fingertips on the other. He opened an eye and met the green glow of Potter’s eyes.

Harry’s eyes.

He smiled.

“Good morning,” Harry whispered.

Weasley grunted behind him, putting an arm around his waist. Draco stiffened and then relaxed when Weasley did not wake up.

“He’s so sexy,” Potter said, still whispering. “Gods, sometimes he accidentally burns me and the pain is always more than enough to have me coming long and hard without even being touched.”

Draco groaned and buried his face into his pillow. His dick was hard.

“We have time,” Potter said, fingers playing with the top of his pajama bottoms.

Draco thought about that and shook his head. “I ... I want your mouth on me, Harry, you know I do, but ...”

Potter pouted, and that was just so cute. Draco smiled and leaned forward enough to kiss him lightly on the lips.

“I know it’s too soon,” Potter said. “But I’m impatient. I want you to belong to us. I want you to be connected to us. I want ... I want you so much, my magic is just spinning and ...” Potter shut his eyes. “It makes me dizzy to be near you, and it’s so orgasmic how my magic reacts to you, how my body craves your touch, and ...” Potter bit his lip and kissed him again. “But I understand. I do ... I ...”

Draco chuckled. “Weasley is prodding at my back with that fire poker of his. You could go suck on him. Let me watch. I bet you can deep throat him.”

Potter smiled. “I can.” He climbed over Draco, pushing his erection against Draco’s side. Gods, Potter was still naked.

Weasley did not want to be moved in his sleep, but Potter twisted around his hips until he was able to lick at Weasley’s dick. Potter got a hand around the base and there was still enough left over. Weasley moaned in his sleep and rolled to his back, giving Potter access.

Potter kept his licks small, curling his tongue around the ridge and then down the thick shaft. He sucked on Weasley’s balls for a moment and then went back up. He held Weasley up and just settled the soft head against his lips. Like a long kiss. His tongue sneaked out and pushed into the slit. He moaned and pulled away, a string of glistening precome snapping between them. His lips were already red and shiny. He licked the flavor from them, and then went back to Weasley’s cock, sucking just on the head for a moment and then going down. All the way down, in one go.

Draco groaned and slipped his hands into his pants, rubbing his dick while Potter stopped with Weasley’s prick all the way down his throat.

Weasley moaned, his hand going to Potter’s head. “Harry. Good. So good, baby.”

Draco wondered at the nickname and then Potter was moving, sliding back up, letting Weasley almost fall from his lips before bobbing his head up and down. Slow, so slow.

Draco’s hand was not enough. Not like this. He cleared his throat and Potter glanced over at him, not stopping in his movements. Biting his lip against nervousness, Draco shucked off his clothes and started pumping his cock.

Potter’s eyes gleamed and he kept his eyes on Draco while sucking Weasley off.

Weasley was mostly awake, tugging at his hair, more whimpers and moans of, “Baby” and “Baby’s mouth is so pretty.”

Draco wanted. Gods, he wanted. He didn’t want just Potter’s mouth on his. He wanted his mouth on Potter’s, and with Potter’s, licking at that dick, and he shut his eyes, trying to control himself.

“Fuck,” Draco whimpered and stilled his hand.

Potter protested, the noise muffled around dick. With a deep breath of courage, Draco moved, sliding down the bed and not looking at Weasley. Just at Potter. Whose eyes were glimmering again.

“Fuck,” Weasley gasped.

Draco took one more breath of courage (who knew if he had a bit of Gryffindor in him? Gods, he wanted a Gryffindor inside him) and then he licked the base of Weasley’s cock, up to Potter’s mouth and they kissed around the head, licking at each other’s mouths and licking precome off Weasley’s cock. Fingers tangled in his hair, and Weasley whimpered something that sounded like, “Blimey, Ferret.”

Draco smiled and Harry moved away enough to let Draco take Weasley into his mouth. Just the wide head, his lips stretched around the ridge. He sucked softly, humming at the sharp taste of his release. Weasley’s hips moved, and he sort of pushed and Draco let a few centimeters into the back of his throat. There was no way he was going to deep throat this cock. Not like Potter could. He bobbed his head, sucking and moaning. He noted that the moaning riled Weasley up almost as much as his mouth did.

His jaw ached too soon and he pulled away for a deep breath, letting Potter back to it, their tongues twisting on the head again. Draco jerked when fingers curled around his dick and he pulled away, meeting Potter’s eyes.

But Weasley yanked at both of their hair and said, “No. Me first. Then you can stroke each other off.”

Draco shivered and huffed a bit, because fuck, he felt a wave of fire with that command and he was more than eager to obey. He and Potter fought over Weasley’s dick and bit at each other’s lips and tugged on Weasley’s balls. Potter deepthroated him again a few more times before letting Draco bob his head up and down just about half of his length.

Weasley’s breath sped up, his stomach twitched, and Draco tugged at his balls, licking at the head with Potter until Weasley was jerking, pulsing his release over their mouths and faces, and Draco moaned, sucking on the head for a few drops just of his own to swallow, and his hair was pulled for the effort. He winced and then Potter was kissing him, his tongue slipping over Weasley’s dick and into Draco’s mouth.

“Good, so good, my baby. Ferret. Shite. That was so good.” He tugged on their hair, and Draco followed the pull just as Harry did. His hands fell to their shoulders and pushed. “Stroke each other off. Come all over me.”

Draco immediately fell into Potter, hand on his dick, the other around his waist for support. Harry wasn’t as long as he was, but he was wide, like Weasley. He wanted it in his mouth. But well, he had an order.

Potter did not seem to mind and the two of them kissed, messy and sloppy and full of moans and curses.

Weasley’s warm hand landed on Draco’s ass and he shivered as the cheek was cupped and fingers slipped into his cleft. His cock throbbed and he jerked his hips back. Potter pulled him forward, their cocks sliding together, and when he had them both in his hand, Draco was coming, crying out and spraying his release all over Weasley’s chest and stomach.

Potter hummed in happiness and after just a few more strokes, added his own mess to Draco’s. Potter fell over Weasley’s body immediately, chasing after the puddles of come even as his body shuddered through the end of his orgasm. Draco only watched for a moment and then joined him, licking come from Weasley's stomach and from Harry’s face.

And that’s when Granger walked in, dressed for classes. “Circe’s tits. What the bloody hell?”

“Language,” Potter said around Weasley’s dick. “You told me to wake them up.”

Granger sighed. “You all are going to be late for classes.” With a wave of her hand, she doused them with cold water that was also a cleaning charm and all three sprung up with a shout. “Hurry. Harry, you need to eat and soon.” She spun with a swish of robes and left them.

Shivering, Potter curled up into Weasley’s warm body and Draco decided that was a good idea and joined him.

“Can’t wait for winter,” Draco said. “Personal heating pad.”

Weasley laughed. “Shut up, Ferret. And yeah, get up. We really can’t be late on day two of classes.”

Potter grumbled a bit, stole a bit of a kiss halfway on Draco’s lips and then pulled away. He stood up, knees shaking, and used the bed and then the desk to stagger toward the shower.

Draco smiled and tried to slide away, but Weasley tightened his hold on his side and used his other hand to tilt Draco’s face up. Draco held his breath in anticipation, but he wasn’t kissed. Weasley licked at his chin and then over his cheek, licking up the fat globs of come.

“Your mouth is so pretty on my cock, Ferret.”

Draco flushed and tried to bury against Weasley’s neck. He had wanted to be kissed. “A compliment for a compliment, Weasley. You have one of the nicest ... no, you have by far the nicest dick I have ever had the joy of sucking.”

Weasley smirked. “I know. I’m going to let you suck on it whenever you want until you can take it all down your throat like my baby can.”

Draco smiled widely. “I look forward to the training.”

Weasley laughed. “Prat. Go on. I have to get up before Hermione comes back and starts throwing freezing rain at me.”

Draco rolled off the bed, an actual happy bounce to his step and he entered the warm bathroom. Potter was already in the shower, and Draco used the loo quickly before joining him, wrapping his arms around Potter’s shoulders and pulling him in close.

“I know it’s still too soon,” Potter said, “but I want you so badly. I ... there’s this gaping hole in my soul where you belong, and while Ron and Hermione don’t feel it as strongly as I do, they do know that someone is missing from our elementals. We were stupid to think that having the three of us was enough.”

“How do you ...” Draco stopped and thought about the question he wanted to ask. “Me, I mean. How ... Blimey, Harry, how do you know that it’s me that’s missing?”

Harry breathed against him for a long time and then finally pulled away, not answering the question. Silently they washed each other, trading kisses every now and then. Granger’s voice floated to them that they were going to miss breakfast. They hurried a bit faster, drying off and then dressing in their school clothes.

“Shite, I forgot I have to talk to Professor Slughorn this morning.”

“We better hurry,” Potter said.

He bit his lip and looked away, holding out a shaking hand. Draco stared at it for a moment and then took it, entwining their fingers.

“I’m not ... I’m not comfortable doing this in the hallways yet.”

Potter smiled at him. “I know.”

Granger shouted at them to hurry.

“Blimey, she’s bossy,” Draco said.

“Until she’s naked. She loves it when Ron orders her around.”

Draco swallowed roughly because he knew exactly what that was like.

Granger smiled at their entwined hands and led them out of the common room. “Ron will be late. He said not to wait for him.”

“He won’t fall back to sleep?”

Granger shook her head. “No, I think he’s spiraling a bit.”

Potter frowned. “And we left him?”

“Just a bit,” Granger repeated. “Apparently, Malfoy is super hot with a dick in his mouth.”

Draco flushed and let go of Potter’s hand when they saw students in front of him.

“He really, really is,” Potter said and nudged him with a shoulder.

“So are you.”

“So am I,” Granger said and winked at Draco.

Draco definitely preferred cock, but well ... Hermione Granger was awfully pretty. She’d definitely grown into herself since the bushy headed know-it-all from first year.

They entered the Great Hall about halfway through breakfast. Draco did not sit, but set his bag down.

“I need to talk to Professor Slughorn.”

Harry frowned. “Good luck, mate.”

Draco heaved a huge breath and headed up toward the teacher’s table. Halfway there, he realized that Potter had called him “mate.” Harry Potter was his friend. Almost. Maybe. A smile found its way to his face, unbidden, welcome. His chest felt lighter. He almost laughed.

He was bloody mates with Harry bloody Potter.

More than mates, really. He still could taste a lingering hint of Harry in his throat.

Professor Slughorn sat at the end of the table, talking with Professor Flitwick. It did not take long for all of the teachers’ focus to turn to him.

Professor McGonagall smiled at him. “Mister Malfoy. I hope everything's going okay.”

Draco nodded and almost bowed. “Yes, Professor. No problems yet.” Except, you know, the huge one of the Golden Trio wanting him to join their crazy-mental elemental bond. “I came to talk to Professor Slughorn about assistant teaching.”

Professor Slughorn smiled. “Ah, yes, Mister Malfoy. I do apologize for the miscommunication. I had thought you had been contacted about teaching.”

“It isn’t a problem, sir,” Draco said carefully. He knew a liar when he met one. “Granger was talking all through lunch yesterday about how exciting it was to teach. I am hoping to get the experience.”

“Normally, we offer first and second year classes only,” he continued almost as if Draco hadn’t said anything. “But your schedule is full on those days. I have third years, Ravenclaws and Gryffindors, on Friday afternoon for Double Potions. It may cut into your own study time.”

An excuse.

Draco did not take it. “I am sure that I can keep up.”

“Yes, yes, of course. I will have a class schedule for you on Friday, so you know what I will be focusing on.”

Draco nodded. “Thank you, sir.” He turned to leave, but Professor McGonagall called him back.

“Madam Hooch is teaching Hufflepuffs and Gryffindors flying on Thursday mornings. She was hoping you could assist her.”

Draco’s eyes widened and he nodded. “Yes, Professor. I would like that.”

“I am aware of your Astronomy class on Wednesday nights, but--” She smiled at him. “--it’s flying.”

Draco smiled back.

“We have also been discussing the option of having Quidditch coaches for each House team. Since the eighth years are not allowed to play, it might be a good idea to at least keep you involved. The only problem so far is that only you and Mister Potter from the eighth years are adept enough on a broom to coach. Although, Terry Boot and Hannah Abbott may consider it. They were on their House teams before the disastrous middle of the school year last year. Anyway. I will keep you posted. The last thing, Mister Malfoy, is that I do not believe you were given the password to the Slytherin common room.” She glared over at Professor Slughorn.

Draco shook his head.

“They are still your House,” she said. “And you are more than welcome to be there.” She scratched a word on a corner of a parchment and handed it over to him.

“Thank you, ma’am.”

“One day, maybe not one day soon, but one day, the Wizarding World is going to realize that you did nothing wrong during the war.”

“That is certainly debatable, but I am doing my best to keep out of trouble.”

She smiled at him again. “I know. I keep waiting to wake up when I see you walk in here with those three. It’s quite ...”

“Unbelievable,” Draco said. “I take no credit for it. Harry is the one that decided we were going to be friends. He’s a stubborn bloke.”

Professor McGonagall laughed. “Indeed he is. Mister Malfoy. And I do have to warn you, that hanging around with them will probably get you into more trouble. I swear I haven’t had such problems with students since the Marauders.”

“Who?” Draco asked.

She only smiled. “Ask Harry. We’ve taken enough of your time. Have a good day in classes.”

“You too, Professor.” Draco turned around and headed back to their table. Potter watched him all the way there and he had a feeling that Potter had been watching him the entire time. The Ravenclaw table grew silent as he walked by, and he heard someone call him a Death Eater under their breath. But he didn’t care, kept his head high, and his eyes and smile on Potter.

“That went well,” Granger said.

Draco’s plate filled with food and he almost salivated like an uncouth beggar. He shrugged and started eating. “Professor Slughorn was very apologetic that he forgot to offer me a teaching position. And McGonagall said that Madam Hooch wants me to help teach first-year flyers, like Harry is doing.”

“Will you have time for that?” Granger asked.

“I will.”

“Maybe I should make you a work schedule, just in case,” Granger mumbled.

Potter chuckled. “As soon as she does, you’re stuck with us. No turning back. ‘Mione taking an interest in your schoolwork is almost like a marriage vow.”

Draco smiled against the rim of his tea cup. “Part of me doesn’t mind so much, but it is ... really really soon.”

“Too soon,” Potter groused and plopped his head on Draco’s shoulder. “I was impatient before. Now it’s just ...”

“Unbearable,” Granger muttered.

Weasley suddenly sat next to Draco on his other side. “I’m so hungry.”

Granger pondered him for a moment and then said, “Hurry up and eat. We have to get to classes.”

“Are you okay?” Potter asked Weasley, leaning over Draco.

He mumbled something around his fork in his mouth that sounded like, “Fiaksjalkdajjdk.”

Draco snorted. “What was that?”

“He said he was tired, hungry, but in control,” Potter translated.

Granger inhaled and exhaled slowly, before standing and grabbing her bag. “You three be careful. I can see this turning into something bad.”

Potter glared at her. “What is that supposed to mean?”

“Your impatience, his ...” She pointed at Weasley, but did not say what word she obviously wanted to. “... Don’t do anything stupid outside of your room.”

She turned around and left.

Draco turned to Potter, an eyebrow raised.

POtter shrugged. “She’s bossy and in control. I know what she means. These new sensations are driving me mad. Most of them are just spiraling right down to my cock and I have to physically keep myself from begging you to bugger me on this table.”

Draco swallowed and jumped when Weasley put his arm around Draco’s shoulders.

“We love ‘Mione. She’s amazing and a perfect balance to me and the power inside me. But my favorite part is breaking down that control she has. You only saw a little bit of it last night, but man, she can be wild.”

Draco shivered and stood up. “We better head to class.”

Potter huffed. “I hate Ancient Runes.”

“Are you looking forward to any of your classes?” Draco asked.

Potter smiled up at him. “Maybe. But I already got what I came to school for.”

“Orgasms,” Weasley said and winked at Draco.

Potter laughed.

Draco spun around and headed for the doors. He was so glad that school robes were closed and so loose. The image of Harry spread out and fucked open on one of the Great Hall tables was going to plague him all day long.


	4. A Few of My Favorite Things

“Double Ancient Runes should be illegal,” Weasley said. “Punishable right up there with _Crucio_ and _Imperio_.”

Draco rolled his eyes. “It was fascinating.”

“You sound like Hermione,” Potter grumbled. “I’m going to fall asleep in my lunch.”

“Then let’s not go to lunch right away.” Weasley threw his arm around Potter’s shoulder and steered him down a side hallway, away from the rush of other students heading to lunch. He met Draco’s eyes and smirked. An invitation.

Granger was already gone, rushing ahead of them to talk to McGonagall about her schedule. He had a feeling that if she hadn’t been, the three of them would be headed to the Great Hall too.

Instead, Weasley led them to an empty classroom, tucked away in a bit of a corner down on the first floor. The door shut behind Draco. Both Weasley and Potter waved their hands at the door, and a smooth barrier of red and green light blocked the door. Draco felt three different charms in that single movement, though with the two of them, it was probably more than that.

“And what, exactly, are we doing here?” Draco asked.

Weasley smirked at him, and Draco’s nostrils flared. He really hated that smirk. Had he always looked like that before when he smirked?

“Harry knows what we’re doing here,” Weasley said and crossed his arms, glaring at the other.

Potter flung his school robe off and kicked off his shoes. He didn’t even unbutton his jeans to slide them down to the floor, and a moment later, his shirt, socks and pants were in the same pile, leaving him breathtaking and naked.

Draco swallowed. The moment stretched, Potter just standing there naked while Draco looked at him, and Weasley looked at Draco. Potter was gorgeous. In the sunshine streaming from the windows, his skin looked a bit lighter and his hair was pure black, shimmering in messy waves on his neck.

Potter whimpered, hands in fists at his sides.

Draco looked up at his face. Potter looked between them, biting down on his lip. His cock was already hard, jutting out from the curls of black hair. And when Weasley continued to say nothing and only stare, Potter’s cock jumped and a thin stream of fluid dripped from the tip all the way to the floor.

It was another long moment before Weasley finally smiled and said, “Baby.”

Potter’s eyes shut with a whimper and he gasped, “Please.”

Weasley hugged him, whispering something in his ear, something that had Potter shivering in anticipation. The shivers continued for a long time and then with a cry, Potter flung himself away and bent over a desk. His pleas echoed around them, and he grabbed his arsecheeks and spread himself open.

Weasley took off his school robe, pausing to hang it over the back of a chair. He tittered and bent down to pick up Potter’s clothes. Potter whined and begged while Weasley folded them nicely and settled them on the desk.

And it was like Potter suddenly remembered that Draco was there, green eyes latching onto his and he gasped, “Draco, please. Please.”

Weasley spanked him. “No. Bad baby. You will be touched when I decide to touch you.” He was spanked again, a fiery handprint almost glowing pink before fading. “You know the rules. Now, grip the edge of the desk.”

Potter whimpered but did as he was told, fingers white on the opposite edge. His legs spread wider and he curled his arse up and out, his arsecheeks spreading almost on their own to show his clenching entrance.

“Harry has two favorite things,” Weasley said, running his hand over Potter’s bum. His other hand unbuttoned his jeans and pulled his cock from his pants.

“Only two?” Draco asked.

Weasley chuckled. “Two main favorite things. The first is ...” He pressed a finger to Potter’s entrance and Potter shuddered. The sunlight from the windows brightened the sudden stream of oil dripping from Potter and onto the back of his thighs. Weasley wiped his fingers through it and then over his dick. “No prep,” Weasley said. He moved, blocking Draco’s view, and Draco finally managed to come closer.

Weasley swiped his dick up and down Potter’s cleft for a moment before he settled the wide head right at his entrance. He pushed, Potter’s moan stuttered through each bit. Weasley sank halfway into Potter before pulling back out. Potter whimpered.

“Ron. All of it. Please. All of it.”

Weasley ran his finger along the rim of Potter’s entrance. His thumb slipped inside and he tugged at the edge. Potter panted and tried to thrust back.

“He’s still gaping a bit from last night, so he doesn’t really need prep. I try to not shove my dick inside his arse everyday just so he’s really tight, but I can’t help it.” He gripped Potter’s arse and once again, slid his dick inside him, this time not stopping until they were pressed together. He leaned over Potter for a moment and bit down on his back.

Potter whined, feet sliding on the floor, trying to move. Ron pushed back up, and Harry received another sharp spank and a command to hold still.

“And his second favorite thing?” Draco asked, his voice rough.

Weasley smiled at him. “You, I think.”

Draco flushed.

Weasley got a firm grip on Potter’s hips and started thrusting. Potter gasped or whimpered or moaned with every thrust, and then he opened his eyes, looked at Draco and whined. A weak sound. Pleading. Aching.

Draco finally dropped his bag and moved close enough for Potter to grab his hand.

“Touch ... touch me.”

Draco swallowed. He wasn’t really sure where Potter wanted him to touch, so he just pressed his hand to middle of his back.

And Potter sighed, smiling.

 _No_ , Draco thought firmly. Not Potter. Not in his head anymore. Harry. Just Harry. Harry wanted him. Harry needed him. He was one of Harry’s two favorite things. Gods, that was mind blowing. It’d take a little longer to think of him that way, but from now on, he’d do his best to only think of him as Harry.

“The second you touched him,” Weasley said, breath labored, “his entire body relaxed.”

Draco used both hands, up and down his back, to his shoulders and down to his tailbone. Weasley suddenly flung an arm around Draco’s waist, pulling him close to his body. His hips kept moving. Draco’s eyes were drawn to where Weasley fucked into Potter, the way his reddened rim sucked Weasley into him, and then almost stuck to him, swollen and wet, as Weasley pulled out.

Draco had a sudden urge to taste him. Taste them both.

He kept one hand at the middle of Potter’s back and slipped his fingers down to the swollen rim. 

Potter--no. Harry cried out at the touch and Draco slid fingertips around him and on Weasley’s dick as he made shallower thrusts, letting Draco touch, letting him play. Moaning, Draco brought his finger back up to his mouth and sucked on it.

Weasley panted and sped up. “Fuck, that’s hot.”

“Ron, please, Ron, please. Please.”

Weasley grinned and then his eyes shut. “He isn’t allowed to come without permission, are you, baby?”

“No, no, please. Please.”

“Just a moment.”

Harry whimpered, almost a broken sound, and his body shuddered.

Weasley leaned on him heavily for a moment, his body pressed tight against Potter’s. He shuddered, turning his face into Draco’s shoulder. When his body stilled a few seconds later, Harry whimpered and tried to thrust back on him.

Weasley chuckled and slapped his ass as he pulled out with a dirty noise. Harry’s ass clenched, pulsing come from it.

“Now you want a taste?” Weasley said, rubbing his fingers over the swollen rim, though the thick stream of come, and back into Harry’s body.

Draco bit his lip against a whimper that escaped anyway. A firm hand on his shoulder pushed him down, and he followed it, letting himself fall to his knees. Harry’s cries were louder, but muffled behind the roaring pleasure in Draco’s head. He slid his hands up Harry’s sweaty thighs, gripped his ass tight, and licked at him, licked at the wet rim, trying to suck on it, swallowing the pulses of come that Harry pushed out of him.

“Tug him off,” Weasley said just before fingers settled in Draco’s hair, pulling lightly.

Draco grunted and lifted a hand between Potter’s thighs. He gripped the full dick and pumped him fast, shoving his tongue into him, licking biting. Moaning. Bugger, he was moaning.

And Harry screamed, shuddering through his release that landed in heavy splats all over the floor and curled in thick drops down Draco’s knuckles. He pulled away from Harry’s arse and licked at the come on his hand instead.

Weasley pulled his hair, and he winced, rising to his feet. Fingers were light on his face and neck, and he moaned at the other mouth licking at the come from his fingers.

“Now, what about you?” Weasley mused.

“Come. Want to come.”

Weasley lifted an eyebrow with a long smirk.

“Please,” Draco whispered. “Please make me come.”

Weasley laughed. “I really never knew how much fun it was going to be to make Draco Malfoy beg.”

Draco pouted.

“Fine, fine.” He slapped Harry’s ass and said, “Knees, baby. Get on your knees.”

Harry just sank back, almost falling over, but resting his body against Draco’s, head on his waist.

“Get your cock out, Ferret, and let baby here suck you off.”

Draco moaned and hurried to obey. Flinging his robes aside, fumbling with the zip on his jeans. He had his cock out for about half a second before Harry dove for it with his mouth, wrapping his tongue around the head and then sliding almost all the way down the length. He threw his head back with a cry, hands going to Harry’s sweaty hair, pulling him forward and pumping his hips. Harry’s mouth was warm, throat almost too tight. He had no problems sinking his dick right down Harry’s throat.

With his orgasm coming fast, he almost didn’t notice the touch on his face. But he did notice the press of lips on his.

His eyes flew open, one hand leaving Harry’s head and gripping tight to Weasley’s shoulder. He moaned into Weasley’s mouth, almost unable to kiss him back with so much pleasure twisting in his gut.

A cry tore from his mouth, swallowed by Weasley’s kiss at first and then echoing around them when he wasn’t able to do more than just hang on, lean against Weasley and thrust out his orgasm into Harry’s throat. Weasley held him tightly, both arms around his waist. Harry softened his sucks and moved to just licking at him and gripping the back of his knees.

“Circe’s Tits,” Draco finally managed to say. “If it’s going to be like that all the time, I don’t think I’m going to survive this.”

Weasley laughed. “We will take that as a compliment, won’t we, baby?” He ran his finger over Harry’s lips, scraping up a stray glob of Draco’s come. He sucked it into his mouth, and smirked at Draco’s heavy moan.

Harry smiled up at them, and then used Draco’s body to stand up and Draco followed his lead and kissed him. They must have looked quite the sight, naked Harry, them with their cocks out, but hugging, holding each other. One arm around each of them.

“That’s twice without Hermione,” Harry said.

“We’re in trouble.”

“It just means we’ll make it up to her. Come on. I’m starving. Let’s go get some lunch. We should have just enough time.”

Weasley did not release them for a moment. When he finally did, it was with a quiet sigh. “I’m glad we have Defence Against the Dark Arts after lunch. My magic is going crazy.”

Harry nodded. “Mine too.”

“What’s it doing?” Draco asked.

“Trying to get to you,” Potter said. “I can feel Ron and Hermione’s magic. It’s like a swirling globe of fire and water, and I know to them, mine is a swirling green ball of growth. But they’re all connected, tendrils seeking the other out. Two tendrils are always reaching for fire and water. One is trying to find you, find the Ventus, but it isn’t there, not yet. You asked earlier how I knew it was you. That’s how I know. It’s like ... our magic, my magic especially, doesn’t try to get inside anyone else. No one but you.”

“It’s maddening,” Weasley added.

“And disconcerting,” Draco muttered.

“Definitely.”

Potter cupped Draco’s cheek and kissed him. “Thanks for not punching me in the face when I sat next to you on the train.”

“That’s Granger’s job.” Draco stretched his jaw like Granger had just punched him.

They both laughed.

“Come on. Lunch.” Weasley waved a hand at them, a quick and effective cleaning spell that had Draco shivering for a moment. It had almost felt hot, like a lick of flame.

“Do all of your spells feel warm?” Draco asked.

Potter smiled and Weasley’s mouth opened for a moment. He shook his head and said, “Only to the other elementals.”

Draco’s eyes widened.

Potter laughed and started getting dressed. “Another very strong indication. Do Hermione’s spells feel clean? Or cool? Like a fresh glass of water?”

Draco nodded. “And yours?”

Potter shrugged.

“Home,” Weasley whispered. “They feel like home. Safety. Just ... it’s hard to explain.”

“No, I get it,” Draco said. “Last night, before your nightmare. The light you cast. It felt like ... I know what Weasley is talking about. I felt like I was laying in a meadow back at home. Content.”

Weasley smiled. “Exactly.”

“I wonder what yours will feel like,” Potter said and kissed him again.

“It’s too soon?” Draco whispered.

“I know, but I can still dream.”

They left the room together, but Draco was lost in his own thoughts. Their magical signatures were seeking him out? Was that even possible?

With a bond like _Ventus Aqua Terra Ignis_ , it must have been. They were indeed foolish to think that the three of them would be enough. He had a lot of questions about it and vowed to talk to Granger that night.

Sure enough, as soon as they entered the Great Hall for lunch, Granger was frowning at them. Weasley sat next to her and kissed her cheek. “We owe you two now.”

“I charge interest. Make it three.”

“Anytime, love.”

Draco kept his head down during lunch. He had too many questions, and he was too afraid of what would happen if he looked at any of them. Would all the other eighth-years know what they were doing? Would his feelings, his lust, his confusion, his happiness show on his face and betray their secrets? Or would he lunge across the table for a longer, deeper taste of Weasley’s fiery mouth?

“You okay?” Potter whispered.

Draco swallowed and looked over at him. “Trying not to launch over the table for Weasley’s mouth again.”

Potter laughed.

“Again?” Granger said, raising an eyebrow as Weasley.

Weasley shrugged. “He looked hot.”

Granger snorted.

Potter leaned his head on Draco’s shoulder. “Now, you know how I feel every fucking time I see you. Hurry and eat. Class starts soon.”

It was a strange mix of Houses that walked toward the DADA tower, with Draco and the other three somewhere in the middle. He did not like exposing his back to someone like Corner who had done nothing but grumble at him for two days. There was a bit of a blockade at the door of the classroom, students stopping short in surprise, but eventually they all managed to get into the room.

And Draco stopped in his tracks.

Bill Weasley stood at the front of the classroom, leaning back against the teacher’s desk. He wasn’t wearing robes, just Muggle jeans and a open shirt, revealing some sort of rainbow and prism on a black T-shirt. His red hair was longer, pulled back in a braided leather tie. More earrings dangled from his ears than the last Draco had seen him. After his trial.

The scar cutting across his face looked larger.

“Bill!” Ron shouted. “You’re the new Defence teacher?”

Bill Weasley smirked. “Surprise.”

“How ... how did I not know about this?”

“I asked that the students weren’t told. Many parents are scared of me and think I’m a werewolf.”

Draco dropped his eyes, his stomach tightening in guilt. Again. That was his fault. All his fault.

“But the other students yesterday,” Finch-Fletchley said. “No one said anything.”

“There’s a charm on the door,” Bill Weasley explained. “It keeps you from saying my name and you can only refer to me by my pronouns and by my title: he and him or the Defence Against the Dark Arts professor. You can’t even write it down.”

“I’m sure I could break that charm,” Potter said and crossed his arms.

Bill Weasley laughed. “I’m sure most of you in this room could, but please don’t. I don’t have Ginny in class until Thursday, and I want to surprise her. As soon as I have a few weeks to settle in, the charm will fade.”

“After it’s too late to hire someone else,” Hannah Abbot said.

“Exactly. If any of you have a problem with me being your teacher, you can walk out that door and right to the Headmistress’s office.”

No one moved.

“You’re the first qualified teacher we’ve have in a long time,” one of the Patil twins said. The Ravenclaw one. “We may actually learn something this year.”

Bill Weasley smiled. “That’s the idea. Now. As you can see, there are no desks in this room right now. Put your bags against the wall and then let’s have a chat.”

As Draco moved to the wall, his body felt heavy, his chest tight. He had almost ruined this man’s life. _You almost ruined everyone’s life,_ a little voice that sounded like Weasley said.

Yeah. He had. His breath came too short, his body too stiff.

Hands touched his face. Hands he was growing to know. Hands he was growing to crave, and Harry’s brilliant green eyes focused in front of him.

“He’s forgiven you,” Potter whispered. “We all have. Or most anyway. The ones that matter. We’re your friends, mate. We are.”

Draco swallowed and lifted a shaky hand to grip his wrist. He nodded, biting back tears. Fuck. He had spent enough hours, years, lifetimes crying over his mistakes, over his choices.

“Are you all right, Mister Malfoy?” Bill Weasley asked.

Or Professor Weasley now.

Draco turned just his eyes, meeting deep brown. His face did not look concerned, but it also did not look upset or angry. It was merely a question.

“S-sorry, Professor,” Draco managed. “I ...” He shut his eyes took a deep breath and then managed to look back at him. “I am sorry.”

Professor Weasley smiled at him and nodded his head, acknowledging the apology for what it was. Draco had apologized before, but it hadn’t really felt real back then. It felt real now, being back in school, being friends with the Golden Trio. None of this would have happened if he’d succeeded the way he was meant to succeed.

“First off, this is the only class that you will have just as eighth-years. The reason for this is twofold. One, I’m going to be showing you some dark stuff, seriously dark stuff. At least half of you want to be Aurors at some point. As much as the Ministry likes to believe that all is well with the death of You Know Who, it isn’t. And it won’t be. There will always be evil wizards. Always. And two, the greatest defence against Dark Arts is unity. Friendship. Respect. With the exception of maybe the first- and second-years, there’s enough discrimination and hatred in this school right now for me to start expelling people. Especially in this classroom”

People shifted on their feet. Some of them glanced at Draco.

“No one, I repeat, no one in this classroom deserves hatred. No one in this classroom deserves anything but respect. We have all been through deep shite, and we’ve all climbed out of it as different people. We have learned from our mistakes. We have grown up. You are all here to learn and I am going to teach all of you. If for one moment, a--” He used finger quotes. “-- _stray hex_ hits Draco Malfoy, I will consider that blatant and you will be kicked out of my classroom and expelled. Mister Malfoy has my direct permission to defend himself or anyone else in any way he sees fit if he feels like he’s being attacked, that goes for inside this classroom and outside of this classroom. Do I make myself clear?”

A few students said, “Yes, sir.” Most just mumbled.

“I’m sorry. Do I need to repeat that?” Professor Weasley said, crossing his arms. “Do I make myself clear?”

The “yes, sir”s echoed in the room.

“Good. I heard rumors and gossip from my younger students yesterday that there were mutters and whispers about when students thought they could get away with hexing Mister Malfoy. You can’t. Even in an empty hallway, there are ways to figure these things out. In my classroom, it will be impossible.”

Draco felt a rush of embarrassment and thankfulness. Harry squeezed his arm and Weasley smiled over at him with a wink.

“Now. Our year will be divided into quarters. In the first quarter, we are going to be talking about just defence. Defensive spells, tactics, skills. What happens when you don’t have your wand? What can you do with things near you? A few of you have had a couple duels in your time, but mostly in enclosed spaces. At the end of the first quarter, we’re going into the Forbidden Forest to play a bit of Hide And Seek.” He winked. “It’s going to be fantastic. In the second quarter, we’ll be focusing on Dark spells. More than just _Imperio_ and _Crucio_. I am going to show you the spell, cast it, and then teach you how to fight it. In the third quarter, we are going to be talking about artifacts. How to look for cursed objects, how to curse objects, how to fight being cursed from an object.” Professor Weasley looked right at Draco and smiled. “In the final quarter, we’re going to talk about potions. I have already discussed this with Professor Slughorn, Mister Malfoy, but I’d like for you to brew the potions that we will be using.”

Draco swallowed. “Huh?”

Bill laughed. “You’re the best student at potions, and already qualified enough to be a Potions master. A silly little test is all that stands in your way and you could pass your N.E.W.T. in Potions with flying colors today if you wanted to take it. I talked to Professor Slughorn, and he is more than willing to let your Potions projects be connected with this class. What do you say?”

“Um ... I ... bollocks. What?”

“So eloquent, Ferret,” Weasley said with a grin. “I think he means that he’ll be happy and excited to do it.”

Potter laughed. “He will. Right, mate?”

And he said ‘mate’ loud enough for everyone to hear. All of them. Claiming Draco right in the middle of a classroom full of threats. He was friends with Harry Potter.

Harry. Bullocks.

Harry was his friend.

Draco looked over at him, eyes wide and swallowed. “Um, yeah. I ... wow. Yeah.”

“Great. I gave Professor Slughorn a list of the potions I want. He’ll get started with you tomorrow, right?”

Draco nodded.

“Perfect.” Professor Weasley clapped his hands. “All right. Let’s get started. I know all you know _Expelliarmus_. But it should be the first thing that comes to your mind when you’re faced with someone else’s wand. The only thing. It’s a spell that has saved Harry’s life a time or two, right, Harry?”

Harry took a deep breath and said, “Um, yeah. Maybe seven or eight times. I don’t know. I lost count.”

“It should be second nature,” Professor Weasley said. “And you should be able to do it wandlessly.”

There were interested murmurs in that.

“Goldstein. Take out your wand.”

Shaking, he did as he was told. Professor Weasley leaned back against the teacher’s desk. Without any warning, his arm moved, much in the same way as it would with a wand, and he said, “ _Expelliarmus_.” Weak, faded light sprang from his hands.

Goldstein’s arm flung back and his wand clattered against the opposite wall.

The spell had looked weak, but hit Goldstein with more force than any of them were expecting.

“Blimey,” Weasley said. “I didn’t know you could do that, Bill.”

Professor Weasley grinned at him. “It’s always better to have a wand in your hand. Always. Don’t ever think it isn’t. But you’ll find a time in your life when you don’t have one.” His eyes strayed to Harry. “You should have been taught. I told them to teach you.”

Harry shrugged. “Hindsight.”

“It’s only hindsight when the obvious solution wasn’t right in your fucking face. I bloody told those sodding buggers.”

The class gasped at his language, and he smiled and did not apologize. “Pair up. Start throwing _Expelliarmus_ at each other. I need to judge your power.”

“I can’t pair up with you,” Harry said quickly. “None of us can. Our magic wants you so much that we’ll give ourselves away.”

And with that Harry strode away.

The unfortunate thing was that without Longbottom, there were only seventeen of them, and Draco was the odd man out.

“I’m allowing you to cast a spell at Draco Malfoy and none of you are taking it?” Professor Weasley said and shook his head. “Fine, Malfoy, give me a few minutes and I’ll come to you. Sorry sodden lot of ungrateful twats.”

“Bill,” Granger said.

“I was told there were going to be eighteen of you,” Professor Weasley said.

“Neville is coming later,” Harry said. “His grandmother has been sick.”

Professor Weasley frowned and nodded. “Good. I’m glad we’re not one short because someone was stupid enough to actually hex Malfoy, even after McGonagall’s warning.”

Twirling his wand through his fingers and up over the back of his hand, Draco watched Harry face-off with one of the girls that Draco still did not know the name of. And then he noticed that Granger and Weasley were not partnered together either. Weasley was throwing the spell at Finnigan and Granger was paired up with Wayne Hopkins. Professor Weasley worked his way around the room, obviously making mental notes about each student's skill. He stood longer with Terry Boot and Dean Thomas than any of the others.

And then he smiled at Draco. “Sorry about this, Malfoy. If I had known there was an odd number, I would have made it a random spell to partner everyone up.”

Draco shrugged. “That’s okay. I’m ... well, I’m getting used to it, really.”

“And how’s my brother been treating you? Before leaving for school, he said the three of them were going to make an effort.”

Draco felt a flush on his neck as he remembered the feel of Weasley’s lips on his not even an hour ago. “They are. All three of them. I think ... it’s weird. We might be friends.”

Professor Weasley laughed, drawing some of the students’ attention to them. “That is pretty cool, Malfoy. Keep your head up. You’re smart and talented, and not too bad on the eyes. Things will work out.”

Draco took a deep breath. “I am really sorry.”

Professor Weasley smiled at him. “I know. You do not need to apologize to me again.”

Draco nodded.

“Now. Disarm me.”

Draco smirked and pointed his wand.

\---

They ate dinner mostly in silence. All the eighth-years did. They may have spent most of the DADA class throwing a single spell, but after the first half hour, it grew tiring.

Professor Weasley had said, “Battles don’t just take ten minutes. We’re going to drive up your stamina. Your energy and your magic are not endless. You can tire yourself out. It’s like any other exercise. You work up to your strength.”

“I might be too tired to eat,” Dean Thomas said, his face in his hand, elbow on the table. He twirled his fork through his mashed potatoes in a tired circle. His fork slipped through his fingers and clattered on the tabletop. It startled Finnigan and he ended up knocking over his juice. Draco sighed at the momentary chaos of more things being knocked over down the table. He wasn’t nearly as tired as they were, he had a long time to build up magical stamina, but he had more questions than answers about the Golden Trio’s power.

Potter nudged him. “You all right, mate?”

Draco smiled. Not Potter. Harry. Harry was his friend. Gods.“It’s really weird to hear you call me ‘mate’.”

Harry smiled, though it was cautious. “I can stop.”

“Don’t,” Draco said. “Weird, but not unwelcome. This is all very ...” He waved his hand around to indicate the Great Hall.

Harry’s smile widened and he gripped Draco’s arm, leaned his head on his shoulder, only for a moment, and then went back to his food.

“You think I can manage to get another inch or so on my Transfiguration essay before I collapse?” Weasley asked.

“How come you three are just as tired as the rest of us?” Draco asked.

Granger glanced around to make sure the others hadn’t heard the question. “It takes a lot of effort to ... hold back. Stay in control.”

Harry hummed in agreement.

“Should we go up and study?” Granger asked. “You have questions about Ancient Runes, right Malfoy?”

Draco nodded. “Yep. I might fall asleep if you aren’t there to stimulate me, Granger.”

Weasley snorted, and Harry buried his laughter in Draco’s shoulder.

Granger’s eyes narrowed a bit, and then she stood up.

“That was bloody brilliant, you wanker,” Weasley said as soon as Granger was out of earshot.

Harry gave Draco a shove. “Don’t do anything I would do.”

“Wouldn’t do?” Draco corrected.

“No. Would do.”

Their eyes met and Harry smirked, slow and sexy. Draco cleared his throat. Harry would not study. Harry would not do anything but tackle Granger to a bed for sex.

Draco smiled and said, “Fine. Fine. Shut up. Come up soon.” He stood up and gathered his bag and headed to the main door where Granger was waiting. They walked mostly in silence, not for a lack of things to say; Draco’s mind was spinning with questions, but he was just too tired to try to vocalize them and walk at the same time. They needed privacy anyway, and there were quite enough interested side-glances and obvious glares from the other students in the hallways.

They were the only eighth-years to leave dinner so early, so they did not have to worry about whispers, rumors, or complications when they took the stairs up to Draco and Harry’s room.

Draco flung his bag on the floor and his robe, not even caring that he’d have to use a strong ironing charm on it in the morning. He was hanging with Gryffindors now. He was allowed to look shabby. He fell face first on his bed with a groan.

“Fuck, I’m tired.”

Granger chuckled. “I’m not too bad.”

Draco was not surprised when the bed dipped, but he was surprised when Granger practically sat on his ass and ended up rubbing his shoulders. He moaned instead of protested. The massage went in deep and it took Draco a moment to realize that Granger was using magic too.

“Brilliant, Granger,” he said, mouth half blocked by the bed.

“Yes, yes I am. Ask your questions.”

He had a lot. The most pressing one was to ask if this massage was a precursor to anything else, but he didn’t want to ask that.

“Why did you think you three were enough for an Element Bond?”

“The strength of our friendship,” Granger replied. “The bond required that, and we were already in a physical relationship as well as an emotional and mental one. After the final battle, our magic was intense. Especially Harry’s. He’s pretty sure that in his newly not-dead state, that he gained a lot of magical powers, or just awakened what was already there. He also thinks Voldemort’s powers, or at least some of his magical core, was thrown to Harry afterward. He had so much power when he used your wand, and that connected him to you. We did not really understand that connection until we realized that there was someone missing from our bond. Ron fought it, he fought and argued with Harry every day about it, but Harry knew it was you. He just knew it. Ron and I, last night before the nightmare, talked about it. As soon as we sat across from you in that train compartment, we felt the same magical draw to you that Harry had felt all along.”

“When did you do the bond?”

“July 31. On Harry’s birthday. It’s never been a good day for him. We wanted to change that.”

“How long had you been planning it?”

Hermione took a deep breath. “We always wanted a way to bond with each other. Molly Weasley has been suggesting that Ron and I get married since fifth year. We’ve put her off by saying we want to finish school first. We’ve been looking for something to tie us together for years. Look, Malfoy, I ... I can’t really explain the connection the three of us had before the bond. Now ...”

She climbed off him and patted his shoulder. “Sit up. I want to show you something.”

“Too tired, Granger.”

“Prat, sit up. That is not what I mean.”

Smirking, Draco rolled over to his back and then pushed himself up to sitting. He wavered a bit, eyes shut. “Merlin, that massage felt good. Thank you.”

Granger smiled and without any sort of hesitation, she turned, dropped her head on Draco’s thigh and said, “Look.” She lifted her hands up a bit, with her eyes shut. Colors swirled between her fingertips: blue, red, and green. “This is what it feels like.” The blue settled for a moment into its own pool of magic, before stretching out to the other two colors. They molded and combined, and then separated again. “Well, this is what it felt like for about a week. Our magic just flowing with each other.”

“And then ...” Draco prodded when Hermione fell silent.

She sighed. The colors separated. They didn’t completely stop merging together, but there was an obvious spot where something was missing. “We didn’t understand at first. Ron and I ... I feel badly for Harry. He’s always felt like a bit of a third wheel. This was supposed to fix that, to show him how much he means to us. But Ron and I are here.” The red and the blue looked more connected to each other than the green that seemed to flounder near the edges, mixing with nothing when there should have been something.

“I still don’t understand why you thought it would work,” Draco said. Not unkindly, and with a shaking hand, he played with Granger’s hair, to make sure she knew that he wasn’t reprimanding her in any way. The curls were softer than he imagined them to be.

“Hubris. That’s all.” Granger let the colors fall and the spell faded. “The Founders were able to work with just three of them, after Slytherin left, so we thought that we could too. We weren’t sure how you’d react to all this. I ... I can’t really ... I’m sorry that we’ve just thrown it at you after two days. Harry’s always been a bit of a wild card.”

“I’m not sorry,” Draco said. “But I cannot just rush into this with some sort of overzealous Gryffindor courage.”

Granger laughed. “You know, before, you would have said Gryffindor stupidity.”

“Well, I am trying to be nice, and yes, I do think it was rather stupid that you three tried this.”

“We didn’t try, Malfoy. We did succeed. Even without the Ventus, the bond worked. There are warnings all over the book that say trying this with three people can be deadly. I think it worked anyway because Harry was already connected to you, from using your wand, from the animosity growing up. Jesus Christ, he was obsessed with you, especially in sixth year. Absolutely obsessed. It wasn’t healthy.”

They were quiet for a little while, and Draco realized how incredibly ridiculous this entire situation was. He was in his bed, with Granger’s head in his lap, talking about forming a lifelong bond with three people he grew up hating. He sighed.

“I cannot rush into this,” he repeated.

Granger smiled and finally sat up, though a bit closer than he’d been expecting. And then she moved forward, arm over his lap, hand splayed over the bedspread. Her other hand went to his face, fingers soft on his cheek for a moment.

“It is all rather disconcerting, and really bloody annoying,” Granger whispered. “We all need to get used to it, because even as I sit here and my entire magical core is yelling at me to claim you, you’re still the spoiled little git that called me a Mudblood whenever you had the chance. I don’t hate you, but you ... just ... you’re a bastard.”

Draco winced and tried to look down, but Granger’s hand cupped his cheek and didn’t let him.

“I know you’re sorry. It’s been two days and I know you’re trying to make amends. We all know that. I’m not going to apologize for punching you in the face.”

Draco laughed, the sound sort of choked. “I deserved it.”

She grinned. “You did. You’re the perfect depiction of everything that is Slytherin, and I know you won’t agree to this until you’ve studied about it on you own. I brought all the books, all my notes, all the journals that the three of us had kept after, so you can read them.”

“Is the bonding a spell or ...”

She shook her head. “You’ll read all of it, I know. It’s a combination of spells, artifacts and a potion. I brewed it, but it took me twice. I totally screwed the first one up. I’m glad you’ll be brewing the next one.”

“Can ... can you do that? Add me to it, I mean? It’s already done.”

Granger frowned. “I’m not sure, to be honest. It’s a matter of you already being there because of your connection with Harry, and not being there because your magical signature is not tied to ours.”

Draco’s eyes went wide.

“That’s what it does,” Granger continued. “It ties your magical signature to ours, through the elements. The elements of Earth all work together, live and die together.”

“How did you even discover this?”

“I told you, here. We were working on cleaning up Hogwarts and I found some of Godric Gryffindor’s journals. His private ones. I devoured them, read through them in less than a week. I faked sick, not ethical at all, but I wanted to read. He talked about the Founders and their bond, and well, the journals I found were from after Slytherin left, so his entries were full of pain and heartache. He said, ‘I wish we had never heard of Diamber Whetle.’ So of course that had me curious. The potion and spells are in that book I gave you. I told the boys I was giving it to you and that you’d eventually start asking questions. We never meant for ...” She sighed. “I told Harry that the earliest we’d be able to add you to our bond is Christmas holidays.”

Draco felt a pang of hurt in his chest that must have shown in his eyes.

“It’s because that after the spell, after the bonding, we were all mostly unconscious for two days before Harry recovered. We can’t do that in the middle of the school year.”

Draco nodded. “Pragmatic and studious to the end, Granger.”

She smiled and then finally leaned forward and pressed their lips together. It was a very tenuous kiss. And short, but it also held a bit of a promise.

“Merlin,” Draco gasped. “This is insane.”

Granger chuckled and curled up against his chest. It was easier to wrap his arms around her, lower them both back to the bed.

After a moment, Draco asked, “Why does the Weasel call Harry, ‘baby’?”

Granger smiled. “Ask Harry. All he’ll tell me is that he likes it. Makes him feel a little special.”

“He’s the bloody Golden Boy. How more special can he be?”

Granger shifted, face tucked up against Draco’s neck, breath warm. Her leg went over his thighs and she sagged against him for a moment. “He hates being the Golden Boy and you know that.”

“I’m learning that. Weasley is ... I will totally admit that he’s absolutely gorgeous. When the fuck did that happen?”

Granger laughed. “He’s always been attractive, Malfoy. He just had to grow into himself a bit. Same as you. You’re more ...” Her hand slid up his stomach and chest and he held his breath. “You’re less scraggly and more toned and filled out. I guess that happens when we’re not running from the threat of death.”

“So it’s not because of the fire part of the bond?”

“No. While we were in the woods, there wasn’t much to do. That is, when we weren’t running from Death Eaters. I studied, researched, and the two of them helped with that a little, but they started having pushup and sit up contests just to fill the time. Then there was all the sex.” She smiled up at him.

Draco grinned back.

“Actually, we had no idea which elements we would get. I was expecting Harry to end up as Air and Ron to be Water and me to be Earth. But the Bond examines all the magical signatures involved and chooses the one most suited.”

“I think they match well with you. Weasley is a hotheaded barbarian, you’re a stubborn and powerful witch, and Harry is ...” Draco smiled. “Harry is just ...”

“Life,” Granger supplied. “He’s always been that way for us.” She propped up on an elbow and stared down at him. “And you. It isn’t nearly as strong as it will be, but wind, air. Both are there. You are always pretty calm. Until the storm comes.” Her smile widened. “Angered, you’re like a whirlwind, and heaven help those that get in your way.”

Draco made a face.

“That isn’t a bad thing. You protect those that are close to you.”

“Maybe, but ...” Draco thought back to their little lunch escapade and that morning. “I pretty much hate that I’m more than willing to let Weasley boss me around.”

Granger laughed. “He is pretty domineering, but that’s mostly with Harry. And with you, well, maybe he needs to dominate you a little bit to be okay with this. He’s spent his entire life hating you.”

Draco nodded. That made a lot of sense and he hated that it made sense.

“I’m sure those aren’t all your questions,” Granger said. “But I’ll give you the books and things, so you can study it on your own, and then we can talk about it.” She fell back against his body. “We should go study. Finish Arithmancy.”

“Yeah,” he said, but tightened his hold around her instead.

She did not protest, and Weasley and Harry found them just like that a few minutes later. Weasley sat on the bed, mostly behind Draco, and Harry curled up against him on his other side just like Granger was doing, arms around his waist, leg thrown over his.

It was way too easy to lean against Weasley when he scooted close. Draco’s eyes shut with a huff.

“Why does Weasley call you baby?” Draco asked.

Harry froze for a moment and then relaxed. “I like it.”

“Why?”

Weasley stiffened this time.

Draco hurried to reassure them. “I’m not asking out of jealousy or anger. I just ... it’s actually sort of adorable. Merlin, help me.”

Harry laughed, the noise suddenly muffled against Granger’s mouth in a heavy kiss.

“Harry’s been through hell and back, Malfoy. He spent most of his life being abused and used and ... well,” Weasley broke off for a moment, thinking about it. “He’s never had anyone to call him anything sweet. He’s never had anyone to hold him or tell him that he’s good enough, that he’s done well, that he deserves to feel good.”

Weasley tangled a hand in Harry’s hair, pulling on it just a little bit.

“He told me once, after I left him for a little while, when I came back, he told me that ... Well, it was totally my fault for abandoning him when he needed me and I had to make it up to him. Without complaint. He asked for this and I give him this.”

“You abandoned him?”

Weasley frowned and nodded. “Once. In the woods. It just ... all got to much for me, and I left.”

“You came back,” Harry said, the words still muffled. His kiss with Granger was softer, his hands sliding under her robes.

“Harry tells me that’s what matters, that I came back. But I still feel like a dick for leaving in the first place.”

“Guilt,” Draco said, voice heavy. “I know what that is like.”

Weasley’s hand left Harry’s hair and went up to Draco’s cheek, turning his face around for a kiss.

“You know, if I’d known your mouth was so delicious, I may have kissed you years ago,” Weasley said.

Draco shrugged. “ I would have thrown a Knee Reversal Hex at you.”

Weasley laughed and kissed him again. “Draco. Nope. Still feels weird. Ferret.”

Draco smiled and did not protest another kiss. Or a tongue. Or the hand sliding down his neck to his collarbone, a soft finger brushing over his skin.

“Can’t wait to mark you up,” Weasley said. “Bite at this pale skin. It’s going to look lovely purpled and bruised and covered in teeth marks.”

Draco shivered and Harry moaned.

“We can’t,” Granger suddenly said. “Homework.”

All three of them groaned.

“I know,” she said. “I know. But homework.”


	5. Forgiveness Under the Stars

They slept separately. They had to. If they didn’t, none of them would get enough sleep.

Well, they meant to.

When Draco woke up to his wand trilling the next morning, Harry was in his bed, pressed against his side, arm around his middle.

And he was starkers. Again.

Draco pondered his life choices and decided for the first time, that if waking up next to Harry Potter naked in his bed was the result of every horrible choice he had made in his life, that he would do it all again the exact same way.

Though there may have been an easier way to have Harry naked in his bed than following the delusions of a Dark Lord and becoming a Death Eater.

He tried to get up and Harry tightened his hold with a moan. Chuckling, Draco pulled at his arms. “I would love to stay in this bed with you longer, but I have to get up and shower. I’ll wake you when I’m through.”

Harry grumbled, but let him loose. “Pompous, perfect, primping prat.”

Draco smiled and leaned over him. He brushed their lips together and Harry smiled, his eyes fluttering open. “You know, if you come get in the shower with me, I’ll probably have time to toss you off.”

Harry’s eyes shut with a heavy sigh.

“You’re actually debating it?”

“Yes. I like sleep. I like handjobs. It’s hard to decide.”

Draco laughed. “Come on, sleepyhead.” Draco tugged first at his arm and then when that didn’t work, on his dick. His hand was shaking when he reached for it, but nothing ventured, nothing gained.

Sodding Gryffindor courage was probably contagious.

Harry moaned and let himself be pulled from the bed. He was whiny and adorable, hair all mussed up, body settling against Draco’s under the warm water. His arm rested around Draco’s waist, his other around Draco’s neck.

“Stroke. Promised.”

Draco pressed a kiss to his neck and said, “I did promise.” With a smooth grip, Draco took him in his hand. Harry’s mouth opened against his other shoulder with a soft sigh.

“Brilliant,” Harry muttered.

Draco agreed. It was almost too easy considering it was only the third time he’d ever touched Harry’s dick. It was rough, not the smooth slide of oil the day before, more twists than strokes. Draco was hard against his side, and whimpered when Harry noticed and turned his body enough to slide Draco’s erection on his soft skin. But the pleasure was short lived as Harry went almost boneless against him, his cock jerking in Draco’s hand and splattering his release on Draco’s body. Both hands went around his neck and he turned his head up for a heavy kiss.

“Tall, so tall, and just ... I want you to fuck me.”

Draco froze for a moment and then held Harry a little tighter. They stood under the shower until a charm full of Hermione’s voice told them to hurry the fuck up already.

“Supposed to have time for ...”

“A handjob,” Draco emphasized. “That’s all I promised.”

Harry pulled away for a moment with a pout. He was still tired, but his eyes had taken on a pleasured, just-orgasmed sort of look instead of a just-rolled-out-of-bed look. Draco pulled him close enough to kiss.

“I almost jumped you on the train,” Harry murmured against his mouth. “My magic was crawling to you, almost pulling at you. I wanted you so badly. ‘Mione had to calm me down.”

Draco chuckled. “I am irresistible.”

“You’re tall and sexy and blond and beautiful.”

“Why does Weasley call you baby?”

“You’re still on about that?” he asked and maneuvered Draco to the side to douse his hair.

Draco filled his palm with body wash and used his hands to wash Harry down instead of a washcloth. That did not really help the ranging problem between his legs, but Harry leaned against the wall and let him, all the way down to his feet.

“It feels nice,” Harry said, head tilted back, water flowing down his head, but not on his face. “He ... he knows about my aunt and uncle, the shit they did. They ... I was always a problem, always in the way. I was never ever good enough. Ron was the first person that I was good enough for. He’s always been ... just there. My best friend. My best everything. I kissed him before he even kissed ‘Mione. I thought a long time about what I wanted to call him. Love. Darling. Sweetie. Honey. You know, all those silly little pet names. And then I realized that I didn’t want to call him anything but Ron, but I really wanted ...” He sighed and turned into the shower spray to rinse off, and then he moved to let Draco squeeze by him. “I really wanted someone to call me those things. He picked baby. It lets me know that he loves me, cherishes me, takes care of me.”

Draco frowned, just a mite jealous, but of Ron. “Is there something I can call you to make you feel the same way?”

He turned his head and smiled. “You’ve been calling me Harry. That’s all I have ever wanted.”

Draco swallowed hard.

“Come on. We’ll be late.”

“First week. Think we can start tomorrow without saying that?”

“No,” Harry said. “If we’re lucky, you’ll actually be late tomorrow because we woke up but didn’t get out of bed.”

Draco laughed and held him for just a moment longer. “One more question.”

“Okay.”

“Why do you let Weasley dominate you?”

Harry smiled. “That one is actually easier. When I’m with Ron, I don’t have to make decisions. He tells me what to do. I don’t have to worry, barely have to think. It makes it all so much easier for me.”

Draco sighed and said, “Yeah. Merlin, I totally understand that.”

“It was sexy as hell when you let him do the same to you.”

Draco grumbled and turned off the water. “My father is probably rolling around in his grave, me letting a Weasel dominate me.”

Harry scoffed. “At least Ron’s a pureblood. He’s probably more rolling around in his grave because you voluntarily kissed Hermione last night.”

“If he wasn’t dead already, that would have done it.”

Harry smiled and said, “Sorry. That isn’t really funny.”

“No, but true.”

Draco led the way out of the bathroom and they both managed to get dressed without groping each other. Draco knew he had potions and had to do his best to impress Professor Slughorn, so he went back to trousers and a nice pale green shirt under his robes, though he left his robes open to show off a bit. His tie was a perfectly twisted knot at his neck. He still did not know what to do about his hair.

New life. New friends. New hair.

He left it down and didn’t even bother to dry it. It would be dry before breakfast ended. Only Granger was waiting for them in the common room.

“Ron went on ahead. He really needs to eat more and he was afraid of dragging you both to a couch if he saw you in private.” Granger looked Draco up and down. “I can see why. Merlin.”

Harry smiled and pulled her into a kiss.

“Why are you so happy?” she asked.

“Handjob in the shower.”

“Ah. Is that why Malfoy is depressed? Not enough time for him?”

“Would have, but he wanted to talk.”

Granger lifted an eyebrow at him.

Draco shrugged. “We didn’t have time anyway. I spoiled him.”

That made her smile. Draco had a feeling the other two spoiled Harry whenever they could. Granger had mentioned about him feeling like a third wheel all the time.

Draco let Harry hold his hand until almost halfway to breakfast. After, they walked close enough that their arms brushed, their fingers brushed, everything brushed and Draco hated that he would not let himself just throw an arm over his shoulder and let Harry tuck against him like he obviously wanted.

Not yet. It was too soon. It was way too soon to throw his entire life and reputation to the owls just for Harry’s green eyes and Weasley’s addicting mouth.

But it was tempting.

Noise faltered a little when they entered the Great Hall. Settling into their usual seats, Granger snorted. “First time they’ve been looking at you like they want to eat you instead of like they want to curse you, Draco.”

“I do not really blame them,” the Gryffindor Patil twin said and both of them leaned over to get a look at him. “I wasn’t really too keen on sharing a tower with the snake, but I can sure get used to this view.”

Draco felt heat rise up his neck and he looked down at his plate.

The girls laughed.

“You look smashing,” Finnigan said from his other side. “It is still mostly in a _I want to smash your face in_ smashing, but Parvati is right. Not bad at all.”

“Actually,” Draco attempted to drawl, though his voice shook a little bit, “I’ve always been attractive, I’ve just been glamouring it down to keep everyone from falling over their robes for me.”

Weasley laughed.

Dean Thomas actually smiled at him. “That is such a lie. You’ve always paraded around school to show off like the poncey git you are.”

“Dean,” Harry said carefully.

Thomas held up his hands and smiled. “The truth.”

Draco did not like the way that Harry had tensed up and he said, “Yes, well, I was just trying to make the rest of you feel better about your own substandard looks whilst in my overflowing beautiful presence. I will start putting the glamour back on tomorrow.”

Dean Thomas wasn’t sure if he was going to laugh or growl. Some of the other eighth-years were glaring at him.

“Merlin, I’m kidding,” Draco said. “It’s really all in the clothes. My hair is starting to turn into Harry’s uncooperative mop. And, I’m too skinny.” He pointed his fork at Thomas. “You, on the other hand, are tall, strong, built almost too much like a demigod and have gorgeous eyes. I pale in comparison.” Draco smirked and looked at his skin, putting his hand next to Thomas’s darker hand. “In more ways than one.”

Harry suddenly grabbed his arm on the other side. “Okay, okay. You’re both gorgeous. Shut up.”

Was he jealous?

Draco looked over at him, at the frown on his lips and smiled. Yep. Jealous.

Thomas stared at him a moment and then huffed and went back to his food.

Harry stabbed at his food, his face glowering.

“Wow,” Draco said, lowering his voice. “Sorry. You can’t deny that Thomas isn’t fit, Harry. But it’s not the same and you know it.”

“What isn’t the same?” Granger asked.

Draco glanced over at her and then at Harry again. “Dean Thomas is fit but I have no desire to touch him or kiss him or --”

“Kiss me now,” Harry demanded, green eyes flaring up at him.

Draco’s eyes went wide. Granger said Harry’s name in admonishment.

“I can’t, Harry. You know I can’t.”

“No, I know you won’t.” Harry huffed and stood up, almost knocking Draco into his breakfast. He watched him stomp away.

“What the ever-loving fuck?” Draco said and looked over at Granger and Weasley. “What was that?”

“That was a very ...”

“Possessive,” Granger supplied.

Weasley nodded. “A very possessive Harry.”

“How exactly do I fix this?”

Granger smiled. “Let him cool down. He’ll be fine in a little bit. His emotions are two extremes. There or not there. He’s been like that since the bond.”

“Well, he was like that before, too.”

“True.”

Draco sighed and stabbed his fork into his eggs, feeling vindicated when the yoke popped and went everywhere.

“Don’t worry, Malfoy. We’ll see him at lunch and he’ll apologize. He always does and his snits never usually last long.”

“I’m going to tell him that you called them snits,” Weasley muttered.

Granger laughed. “Hurry up and eat. I don’t want to be late for Potions.”

Draco lifted his head in surprise. “You’re in Potions with me?”

Granger nodded. “I’m probably the only one in Gryffindor that’s good enough for the Advanced Class that we’re taking, but your skill far outpaces mine. Anthony, Michael, Terry, and Padmil are all in the class too.”

There were a few other seventh-years in the class as well, those showing more promise than usual with potions brewing, including to Draco’s amazement, Luna Lovegood. Crazy bint, but still pretty brilliant. He was sure all the seventh-year Ravenclaws were in the class, and he saw three seventh-year Slytherin students, Alastor Prince, Chester Stonewall, and Diamond McAlister, and two Hufflepuffs.

“Ah, Draco, so good to have another natural blond back at Hogwarts,” Lovegood said.

“There’s more than just the two of you,” Granger said patiently.

“No, no. Most of them are just under a fulvus enchantment, meant to think their hair is blond. You can tell the difference if you really look.”

Thankfully, Professor Slughorn entered the class and smiled at all of them, though his face sort of hardened for a moment when settling on Draco. Or he thought it did. Maybe that was his imagination.

“Welcome to Advanced Potions. I am so very glad there are so many of you in Hogwarts that are so proficient in Potions and now we can move beyond the simple Pepper Up potions and brew some real happiness.” He waved his wand at the board and a series of potions appeared. “These are the potions that we will be brewing this year. Today, I will be discussing each of them briefly and then-- Yes, Miss Granger.”

Draco had been busy writing down the potions and had not realized that Granger’s hand had gone up in the air.

“Yesterday, in our Defence class,” Her mouth opened for a moment and she smiled and continued, “our teacher said that Draco was going to brew some dark potions for his class. There aren’t any dark potions on the board.”

“I am sure your teacher was mistaken,” Professor Slughorn said with a frown in Draco’s direction.

“No, he said that,” Granger continued. “He said he talked to you about it and you agreed.”

“Well, we can’t have just one student doing different work than the rest of--”

“With all due respect, Professor, Draco could brew the potions on the board with his eyes closed.”

Draco felt heat in his face as the rest of the class stared at him for a moment, and then they all looked back at their professor.

“We will all be doing these potions, Miss Granger. The work that Mister Malfoy is or isn’t capable of is not of importance. He is here in school and he is signed up for Potions, so therefore--”

“It’s a bloody waste of his time and nothing more than you not liking him,” Granger continued.

“Twenty points from Gryffindor,” Professor Slughorn said, and glared at Draco, “and ten from Slytherin.”

“But Malfoy didn’t do anything,” Alastor Prince said.

“And you have spoken out of turn. Would anyone else like to lose points for their House?” Slughorn asked almost too sweetly. It reminded Draco of Umbridge and he felt a little sick.

Granger glared.

Draco continued writing down the potions as did all of the other students. After a slightly longer than necessary stare down, Professor Slughorn turned away and started talking about the Revive Potion. He hurried to take notes and noted that Granger did not. She was still sitting stiff on her stool, arms crossed.

Draco nudged her with his elbow. “You’re beautiful when you’re angry.”

She flushed and turned her glare to him, though it was half-hearted.

“Take notes,” he said with a smile. “You’ll regret it later if you don’t.”

It snapped her out of it and she grumbled under her breath. “He’ll regret it more, just wait, until I tell,” again her mouth could not say his name, “the Defence teacher and Professor McGonagall.”

“You don’t have to do this for me, you know.”

Granger glared at him. “Yes, I do because you can’t and everyone in this classroom knows that.”

It was very true. Draco had very little say in anything. He had so much power before the war to get what he wanted, but that was gone. He had to do his best and do it on his own merit, not the false power that his family name had held. What a joke that was now. He would be lucky if he managed to salvage even a quarter of their name, a quarter of their social prestige. If he was honest with himself, and he was slowly learning to be, he didn’t really want that anyway. His father had screwed over and intimidated too many people for that prestige. It hadn’t been earned through respect.

There were a total of twenty potions on the board and Draco noticed a discrepancy in the brewing schedule. He raised his hand.

Professor Slughorn ignored him.

Draco kept his hand in the air while Professor Slughorn talked about the delicacies in brewing an Invigoration Draught.

About ten minutes later, in front of them, Luna Lovegood raised her hand.

“Yes, Miss Lovegood?” he asked.

“I do believe that Draco Malfoy has a question,” she said, “though you may not be able to see his hand up in the air because of the snarklewroughts around his head at the moment.”

Professor Slughorn’s nostrils flared. “Yes, I am sorry, I did not see your hand up, Mister Malfoy. What is your question?”

“ _Ignus Protegro_ takes four months to brew properly. We will not have enough time to do it with the position it is at in the schedule.”

“You are mistaken.”

Draco swallowed and shook his head. “I am not mistaken. It takes four months to brew, precisely four full moon cycles and has to be--”

“Ten points from Slytherin.”

The other Slytherins glared first at Draco and then at the professor.

“As I was saying, even the smallest tremble in your hand while stirring this delicate potion can nullify its effects and make the taker fall into a deep depression--”

Granger elbowed him and showed him a corner of her parchment. _Want to just take the Potions N.E.W.T. tomorrow and call it good?_

It was tempting, but he wanted to learn. He did know most of the potions on the board, but not all of them.

He shook his head and turned back to taking notes.

\---

“Of all the bloody wankers and their absolute disregard for fucking human decency. I fucking swear, Malfoy. I am about ready to just go right there and --”

“Granger, shut up,” Draco said on their way to lunch. “And watch your mouth, there are children present.”

Granger huffed. “No, I am not going to shut up. This isn’t fair and you know it. You could brew those potions with your eyes closed--”

“I have never had a potion explode and I don’t plan on making that happen by being stupid enough to brew a potion with my eyes closed.”

Granger sighed. “This is absolutely ridiculous. If I don’t make it back to lunch, I’ll see you in our Muggle Studies class.”

Draco made a face.

Granger chuckled. “It’s required of all students this year.”

“Don’t remind me. Where are you going?”

“To talk to,” she paused, stopping almost abruptly, “the Defence teacher. He hasn’t been coming to meals yet, so I’m sure he’s in the office.”

“It’s about me so I think I should come too.”

“No, go tell Ron and Harry. If both of us don’t show, they’ll tear the school apart looking for us.”

“That is way too vivid of an image for it to not be true.”

Granger bit her lip and then moved a little closer to him, out of the way of the students heading to the Great Hall for lunch. Most moved around them, casting sidelong glances at them. The older ones blatantly glared or grumbled.

“What?” Draco asked.

“You called me beautiful.”

Draco laughed. “Am I wrong?”

Granger crossed her arms and stared at him.

“It’s a Slytherin principle of tact and decorum to stay away from Gryffindors, but that didn’t keep most of us from wishing you’d actually been sorted into Ravenclaw so we could have a go at you.”

“That’s almost flattering.”

Draco snorted. “You’re smart enough for Ravenclaw.”

“I’m plenty angry and impulsive enough to be in Gryffindor.”

Draco chuckled. “Indeed. And brave. And loyal. And--”

“So how are your Slytherin principles dealing with you being with three Gryffindors?”

Draco made a face. “I constantly shut up their disgusted mutterings.”

“Malfoy.”

“I am kidding. Those ideals were a long time ago and I’m going to consider myself lucky to have all three of you.”

Granger smiled. “I have a break after lunch. I’ll gather up those books and notes and leave them on your bed for you.”

“Thank you.”

They had garnered a bit of attention while they talked and Draco did his best to ignore their stares, keep his head up and walk down to the Great Hall. At least the first and second years were a little afraid of him, scurrying out of his way. That made him feel a bit better.

Harry and Weasley were already at the table, tucking into their lunch with fervor.

“Where’s ‘Mione?” Harry asked.

“Sticking up for me again,” Draco said.

“Michael told us what happened in potions,” Weasley said, glowering. “Slughorn is a--”

“A what, Mister Weasley?” Professor McGonagall asked from behind him.

Weasley almost choked and managed to say, “Er. Um, a potions teacher.”

She smirked. “Nice save. The Quidditch team is going to miss having you at goalie.” She walked away.

The eighth-years laughed and Weasley glared at Harry, who was leaning hard against Draco and trying to breathe.

“Is ‘Mione talking to Slughorn?” Weasley asked.

“No. She’s talking to,” --and Draco could not say his name-- “the Defence teacher.”

“It’s so weird that we can’t say his name.”

Weasley nodded. “I can’t even say that he is my--” His mouth opened and no sound came out. “--Defence teacher. Or that he’s married to his work and has ambitions to be the Minister of Magic.” Weasley’s face warped with confusion at the stuff coming out of his mouth. “I mean, he used to work as a teacher at Hogwarts and now he’s a teacher at Hogwarts.”

Harry laughed. “You can’t even write any of it down. Those are some really strong charms on his classroom.”

Draco smiled and finally got around to eating the food on his plate.

“We have Charms next,” Harry said. “What are you doing, Ron? Don’t you have a free period?”

Weasley made a face. “I had a free period. McGonagall is making me take extra Transfiguration classes. I have to sit in with the fifth years today and tomorrow.”

“Tough luck, mate. But you really need the help.”

Books slammed on the desk and Granger sat next to Weasley with an angry huff. “I swear that man ... He refuses to acknowledge that he and the Defence teacher had talked about Draco brewing potions. I swear, I am just so angry ...”

Weasley threw his arm around her shoulders and kissed her cheek. “You’re such a good friend, ‘Mione.”

“Don’t placate me right now, Ronald. I am angry.”

“At least she isn’t mad at you,” Harry said.

“Thank Merlin.”

Which earned him an elbow to his side. He smiled and kissed her cheek again.

“Are you mad at me still?” Draco whispered to Harry.

Harry sighed. “No. I overreacted. Sorry.”

“You know that no matter what I think, I’m not going to go crawl into Thomas’s bed, right? Or anyone else’s for that matter.”

“Yeah. I know.”

“Just yours. Or well, you’ll crawl into mine, like this morning.”

“Harry,” Granger said. “What? You aren’t supposed to be pressuring him.”

“Oops,” Draco said. “Was that supposed to be a secret?”

Harry ducked his head. “I needed it,” he whispered. “I had a nightmare that he was dead, and the only way to prove that he wasn’t was to lay against him and listen to his heart beat.”

Granger face softened and she touched Harry’s hand. So did Ron.

“I don’t want to pressure Draco, you know I don’t, but the nightmares are increasing. I have them almost every night unless I’m tired out first.” He said _tired out_ with a slow sort of smirk that had Draco wishing his robes were closed.

“It’s too soon,” Granger said.

“I know, but ... it’s only September. I do not want nightmares until Christmas.”

Draco shut his eyes and inhaled, trying to gather up the courage to ... do something drastic. Like _Kiss Harry In The Great Hall_ drastic.

But he couldn’t. He just could not do that yet. He did not know how to reassure him. He was only able to scoot just a little closer to him on the bench until they were almost pressed together.

“I’m giving Draco all my notes and books on the subject and he’s going to read up on it,” Granger said.

“In the meantime, I can always come by and help tire you out,” Weasley offered.

“Help?”

“Yes, help. You do have a pretty dashing and shaggable roommate.”

Draco blushed at the unexpected compliment.

Unfortunately, Weasley said that loud enough that Finnigan and Hannah Abbot heard.

“Wait, what?” Hannah said.

“Harry and Malfoy are fucking?” Finnigan demanded, drawing more attention from the other eight-years that leaned over the table to look at them.

“No,” Draco said immediately. Because well, technically they hadn’t yet. “Ron’s just taking the piss, shut up.”

“Ron?” Finnigan said, an eyebrow raised.

“Yes, Ron. That is his name.”

Finnigan looked between the four of them and shook his head. “Still don’t know why you are being nice to the Slytherin Ferret, but whatever.”

Draco had to bite his lip hard against a curse about Muggle-borns and it was very very hard. Finnigan was such an arse to him. Always had been despite his cheery attitude to everyone else. Then again, Draco had been just as much of an arse to him in return. Probably more so. Definitely more so. Since the prat was Irish and all.

“Let’s get out of here,” Weasley said and then said lower, “before I start throwing flame at people.”

He kissed Hermione soundly on the lips before standing. Harry stood up to follow and Draco did a bit more slowly.

“Thank you,” Draco said to her. “Thank you for helping me.”

Granger grinned. “I can imagine that soon you’ll be helping me too, so we’ll be even, Draco.”

And if that wasn’t just the dirtiest, sexiest look Draco had ever gotten from a woman in his life. He made a bit of a show of closing his robes, and Granger’s laughter followed him toward the door.

\---

Charms was a lot of fun. Draco had always loved the joy of Charms, just the way that Charms made magic useful. There were Dark Charms, just like all of the seven types of magic, but Charms was the basis for everyday work and life.

Plus having Harry there to fling pillows at and shower with sparkles could be nothing but fun.

With the high still in his body, Draco almost didn’t mind that he was being forced to take Muggle Studies. Though, it was probably super boring for Harry and Hermione and the others that actually grew up as Muggles.

And he only grumbled a little bit when Professor Dangerfield assigned them all a two-foot essay on how to integrate and talk to Muggles. It was a personal essay, and Draco was tempted to just write “Stay away from them” for two feet.

“Harry is willing to suck my cock so I’ll do his Herbology homework,” Draco said. “Anything I can offer you to do this Muggle bullshite for me?”

Granger lifted an eyebrow at him and said, “No. Watch your language around the children. And you and I should really get a nap in if possible, for Advanced Astronomy.”

“You signed up for Advanced Astronomy?”

Granger nodded. “I feel like it will help me understand potions and arithmancy much better.”

“And I can’t,” Draco said. “I have to finish my Herbology assignment today.”

“And mine,” Harry asked with an obscene dick-sucking gesture.

Draco smiled. “Maybe.”

\---

Draco had just enough time to finish his Herbology homework and his Arithmancy work before Astronomy. Luckily, Professor Flitwick wasn’t a complete arse and had not assigned them any Charms homework. He wanted to get started on his Potions assignment--Slughorn had demanded that they write a three-foot essay on how the potions they planned to brew in the class were going to be used in their chosen career--but Granger was right and he could do this shite with his eyes closed.

Granger had put all those books and journals on his bed and it had taken a lot of self-control not to shrug off his homework and just read those instead. He was interested in the research, the knowledge, and the procedure of the bond they had created. But that was not all.

For the first time in his life, Draco actually felt like he could belong to something special. Something ... complete. He gripped his forearm as he stared at the books. The Dark Mark had faded, not completely, but it was still there, glaring against his skin. It had symbolized something then: power, control, but also a group to belong to. A group with ideals that he had believed in. Past tense. Now it just symbolized all the barmy choices he’d made in following his father to serve a madman.

Draco had thought more than once about getting something tattooed over it.

Maybe something showing the elements. Maybe. If this was real.

It all still felt too good to be true. He kept waiting to wake up.

Fingers slid over his arm and pried his own fingers off where the Dark Mark lay hidden under his shirt. Draco easily let himself be moved until Harry was in front of him, and then with his arms around him. Draco hugged him tightly, head resting against Harry’s soft mop of hair, and they stood there for a few short minutes of silence.

“We were young and stupid, with ideals and beliefs that were not our own, fighting a war that was not ours for a future we now have to live,” Harry said. “No one that matters blames you for the choices you made.”

“I do.”

Harry hummed against his shoulder. “Hermione’s waiting for you to get up to class.”

Harry turned his head up and Draco did not hesitate to kiss him, just for a moment.

“She probably should have come up herself,” Draco said. “I always get distracted with you.”

“She thought about it, but she’s almost as crazy about you as I am. She’s been having a really hard time keeping herself under control around you.”

Draco thought back to the day before about their talk, Granger hadn’t done anything to show that she was being affected the same way Harry and Weasley were besides a few kisses. But that was the not the same as Harry constantly wanting to touch him and Weasley constantly undressing him with his eyes. He looked at Harry with disbelief in his eyes.

“There’s a difference between mental and emotional attraction and physical attraction, and a _elemental bond trying to complete itself by getting you naked_ attraction. She’s fighting with the last one. Part of her hates that she wants to climb onto your dick and never get off.”

“What about you?”

Harry smiled. “I do not hate that at all. Go, you’ll be late.” Harry released him and headed into the bathroom.

Draco ran his hands over his face and took a deep breath of courage. He wondered how difficult it would be if there was part of his magical core that was trying to drag him into Granger’s bed. He didn’t necessarily mind being there, or having her there, but at the same time, he understood. He’d been a right little arsehole to her and no amount of Elemental Bonds could change that. But he’d try. He was trying.

He left the room and smiled. Granger was in the middle of the common room, staring up at his door, hands on her hips and tapping her foot in irritation.

“Finally. We only have a few minutes.”

“Granger, we live in the Astronomy Tower. It’s going to take maybe a minute to get up there.”

She huffed and spun around in a flurry of hair. He caught up with her at the portrait hole. Instead of going right to head down, they went left to head up. Draco made sure they were alone on their section of the spiral staircase and then reached out and took Granger’s hand. Startled, she jumped, but she did not try to pull away, a small smile on her face.

Progress. Draco smiled too.

They both let go near the top of the tower.

Draco sort of froze and Granger turned, a questioning look on her face.

“I ... I haven’t been up there since ... Dumbledore. I ... I ... ”

Granger nodded in understanding and then took his hand again. “I’ll be right next to you.”

“I should have ... I should have ... done more, done ... told someone sooner. I just ...” He couldn’t breathe suddenly.

“Yes, probably. But you didn’t and here we are. You can’t change the past, Draco. But you can learn from it and help make the future better. That’s what you’re doing. Breathe, it’s okay. Take a deep breath.”

Draco tried to listen to her. It was hard to take the few steps to the tower. It was hard to breathe as he stared at the location of most of his nightmares. He had not wanted to kill Dumbledore. He knew that he could not.

Granger pulled him toward the wall, behind all the other students gathering and waiting for Professor Sinistra.

“Harry was here,” she said. “He was Petrified and under the Invisibility Cloak. He saw everything, including when you lowered your wand. He knew you weren’t going to do it. He knew that you wanted to get out.”

Draco knew that. Harry had said the exact same thing at his trial. But he still should have tried to find a way out sooner.

Granger did not let go of his hand, even when the professor showed up and started class. He tilted his head back to look up at the stars, a wash of light on the dark sky. Almost like the light at the end of a wand that was waved in a dark room.

Granger whispered, “This spot holds demons for you and Harry both, but this is my favorite place in the school.”

“Not the library?”

She shook her head. “I like being here, being reminded that I’m just a small person in a speck of the universe. And reminded that while my choices may not change the way the stars move, my choices can change the way I move and the way those around me move. We are not alone in this world or in this fight to recover. That’s why I help you, why I stand up for you, because if I allow even one person to discriminate against you, then that doesn’t make me any better than the Death Eater shouting for blood purity.”

Draco thought about that. He agreed with that. But sometimes, he did not not know his place in the movement of others. Where did he belong?

Granger leaned her head against his shoulder as they listened to the professor talk about their assignments and how this class would connect to their Potions, Arithmancy, and even their Herbology course. He let go of her hand and put his arm around her shoulder instead. Daring, with so many students that could catch them, but Granger did not try to get away from him. She put her arms around his waist, under his open robes, sliding her hands along the silk shirt.

“At least, the Elemental Bond picked someone who is bloody gorgeous,” she whispered. “Can you imagine if our Ventus was Filch?”

Draco shuddered in horror. “There are things scarier than the Dark Lord. I had no idea.”

Granger muffled her laughter on his chest.

They stood like that until they needed to go to telescopes. Draco loved Astronomy. There was a tower at the Manor where he spent probably too many nights in all sorts of temperatures just to study the stars.

After class, Granger half-grumbled and half-yawned on their way back to their common room.

“What?” Draco asked.

“You’re better at this than I am, and better at Potions, and Ancient Runes, and Arithmancy. And I hate that.”

“Well, you’re better than me at Charms and Transfiguration and probably Herbology. Definitely better at Muggle Studies. I’d say we’re about even with Arithmancy and Ancient Runes. I was reprimanded often for letting some Mud--” He stopped and cleared his throat. “I mean, some Muggle-born beat me as the best in class. Now, I have the opportunity to learn from you instead of compete with you.”

She smiled at him, slow and devious. “It’s still a competition, Malfoy. Second place is always the first loser.”

Draco laughed.

They followed the few other eighth-years into their common room and then said goodnight. Draco had wanted to kiss her. Under the stars would have been even better, but there were too many people around. They settled for a quick hug.

In his room, Draco once again got ready for bed under the green glow of Harry’s light. The letter to his mother lay unfinished on the desk. He sat down to finish it, explaining the problems with Potions and the solution (he could not write “Bill Weasley” at all). He added his doubts and troubles with being on the Astronomy Tower again, but also added how Hermione had helped him.

He stared at the paper. At how he’d actually written “Hermione” and not Granger.

Bollucks.

_I’m in deep, Mother. Emotionally invested in the Golden Trio and their friendship. What should I do if it all goes away?_

He signed the letter with his normal flourish. Yawning, he stood up to go to bed. But he paused, staring at Harry, sleeping starkers again, and at the way the green light glowed on his skin. It was the most calming feeling, and he felt pulled to it.

Sod it all.

Draco followed the the pull and he slipped into bed with Harry, smiling when Harry curled up against him.


	6. Broomsticks and Snakes

Thursday morning, Draco could not keep the smile off his face. It almost kept him from eating. It definitely kept him from holding a decent conversation. And that was also because he could not keep his eyes off Harry. They’d spent their morning kissing. In bed until the last possible moment, in the shower until the last possible moment, in the common room until the last possible moment. Hermione had to pull them apart and walk between them on the way to the Great Hall for breakfast because they could not stop looking at each other.

Even as they parted ways, their hands barely brushing, Draco smiled.

He was on his way out to the pitch to help Madam Hooch when Professor McGonagall called his name. He stopped and turned to her.

“I heard about Potions yesterday.”

Draco nodded. “It’s okay. I am sure that--”

“Our new Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher is very adamant about you brewing potions for the class and receiving credit for it. I have overruled Professor Slughorn’s decision and am giving you direct permission to use your time in Potions class to do what was originally agreed upon. Honestly, I was there in that staff meeting when the Defence teacher asked for his permission. Did he think I would forget? I want you to hurry up and get your Potions Mastery so I can hire you as a professor instead of that nutjob.” She held out a piece of parchment and Draco took it, too stunned at her very uncouth language about a fellow teacher.

On the parchment were the five potions that Bill Weasley wanted Draco to brew, and the dates by when he needed them. Draco mentally inserted them into the potions already assigned and figured that he could pull them both off, as long as Professor Slughorn was agreeable to giving him his own work bench.

That was almost laughable, but he would try. He wanted to learn everything he could about potion brewing.

He arrived at the pitch just as Madam Hooch did. Draco had always liked her no-nonsense approach to flying. And she had always been a fair referee during their matches. Even if he had cheated in almost every match.

“Mister Malfoy,” she greeted with a smile. The little first years tittered, some of them actually shaking at being near him. “Thank you so much for agreeing to help.”

“Thank you for asking. I haven’t flown for ... well, a long time.”

“Where is your broom?”

“Locked away at the Ministry at the moment. Confiscated with other magical items. I’m not sure I’ll get it back, but now that I know that I need one, I’ll send in an order.”

Madam Hooch nodded. “Good. Now, you lot.” She turned to the little kids, some staring in open-mouthed awe or horror at Draco.

“This is Draco Malfoy. He was the Seeker for the Slytherin team starting in his second year. Second year, that means anyone of you can do the same thing. Mister Malfoy is an excellent flyer and one of the greatest Seekers that Hogwarts has ever seen. I expect you to respect him and treat him as you do me. I don’t know why you are all looking at him like that. He isn’t going to hurt you. Now, go stand by a broom.”

At Madam Hooch’s signal, twenty voices shouted “Up!” and brooms shot from the ground, and others just rolled around. Madam Hooch walked up and down the rows and stopped at a young boy whose broom refused to do more than just sort of lift the handle up a bit, the bristles still on the ground.

Draco noticed a young Hufflepuff girl with curly black hair almost in tears staring down at her broom. She was small, and Draco never would have thought she was even old enough to be at Hogwarts yet. The boy next to her was laughing with his friends, proud that his broom had just shot up off the ground. She looked at them, devastated.

Draco moved over to her and crouched down in front of her. The broom wobbled a bit.

“Did you get a temperamental one?” Draco asked.

The girl looked up at him with bright eyes and tried not to gape, her mouth open, but her shock at least stopped her tears.

“Can you try again?”

She frowned, shaking her head, curls bouncing.

“What’s your name?”

“Alice Corner,” she whispered.

“Michael Corner’s sister?”

She nodded.

“He’s a shite flyer,” Draco whispered. “I bet you can be much better than him.”

She covered her mouth with a startled laugh.

“Try again.”

She shut her eyes and held out her hand and sort of whispered, “Up.”

“You have to be forceful,” Draco said when the broom didn’t move. “The broom is just a thing that you are using. There’s no reason to be afraid of it. And you can’t shut your eyes like that. You have to focus on the broom.”

Draco moved her hand to a better position, explained about how her fingers should be curled to give the broom a place to go, and then said, “Okay. Now scream it if you need to, and I think you do. We’re outside, and this is flying. Let all your emotion into it.”

She looked at him, biting her lip. She was still unsure, but her hand shook less.

“Trust me. Just scream it.”

She stared at the broom and shouted, “Up!” And the broom flew into her hand, startling her enough that she almost toppled over, and Draco just barely grabbed the broom to keep her upright.

“There you go. Good job!”

“Help me too, Mister Malfoy?” one of her classmates asked. A boy that reminded him of pudgy little Neville.

Draco smiled and moved down to him to help him as well.

\---

Draco almost fell asleep in his lunch.

“Go up to bed,” Harry whispered. “You need a nap before class.”

“No time,” Draco said. “I’d probably fall and break my neck on the way up there anyway, and then you’d have to find another Ventus, and it’s just too much hassle. Just ... wake me up.”

He put his arms on the table and rested his head against them. He did not mind the touch to his back, Harry’s hand moving up and over him in a soft touch.

“Yep,” Finnigan said. “You two are shagging.”

“Not right now,” Draco muttered. “Later maybe. Unless you want a show.”

Harry laughed. “We aren’t shagging, Seamus.”

“Not yet,” Draco murmured. “Might get lucky though.”

He ignored Finnigan’s grumbling.

“You okay?” Weasley asked and another hand touched his back for a moment.

“Tired,” Draco mumbled.

The noises droned on around him. Even with his mind muffled by lack of sleep, he was very aware of Harry next to him, their thighs pressed together. And his energy. He could almost taste it, smell the hint of freshly cut grass, mixed with the fragrance of roses and honeysuckle. A breath of pine with a hint of woodsmoke brushed over him, and then was swallowed by the taste of freshly conjured water, the touch of a cool dip into the Great Lake during the summer.

And was that a soft breeze, blowing over his wet skin, fluttering his hair and tossing grass clippings and rose petals around him?

“Draco,” Harry whispered and nudged his shoulder. “Wake up. Time for class.”

Draco did not want the dream to end, and when he opened his eyes, meeting the steady and bright green gaze of Harry, he knew that it hadn’t been a dream. It’d all been real, just there, within his magic.

And he murmured something that should have been Harry’s name, but sounded Latin his mind, and Granger sort of gasped, and everything flared inside him for a moment.

Harry’s smile was almost as bright as his eyes, and he leaned forward and pressed a quick kiss to his cheek.

“Told you,” a different voice said. “Shagging.”

“Told you,” Harry returned. “Not yet.”

Draco finally pushed up and yawned. “Sod off, Finnigan. Malfoys don’t just jump into bed with anyone that begs.”

Harry pouted at him. “Really? You won’t fuck me if I beg?”

Draco stared wide eyed at him amidst the laughter around them, and he cursed, just loud enough for Professor Vector to hear and dock Slytherin five points.

Harry laughed and said, “And you’re a liar. You Slytherins are slags.”

Draco smirked. “That life is behind me now. I am pure and innocent--”

The Weasel’s laugh was the loudest, and the others at the eighth-year table joined in, maybe a bit reluctantly, but with less animosity than the day before.

“Come on,” Harry said and tugged at his arm. “We’ll be late for Charms.”

\---

Words blurred on his Transfiguration essay, and Draco just gave up, resting his head on the desk with a small groan. He needed to sleep. Tomorrow was going to be another long day.

Harry prodded him with the end of his quill. “Come on. Just a few more inches. You can’t sleep yet.”

“Ten minutes,” he grumbled. “Just ten bloody minutes.”

Harry chuckled, and the sound felt whisper soft on the back of his neck, like the brush of tree leaves while walking through a thick garden. Fingers followed, like the gentle glide of a budded rose on his skin.

“Blimey,” Draco murmured.

Harry made a questioning noise.

“You’re all grass, Potter,” Draco said. “Trees and flowers. Ugh.”

Harry chuckled.

Draco fell asleep, waking only long enough to walk up too many stairs and be told too many times to move his bloody arms. When he tilted backwards, his head swooping from the sensation, it was into the softest meadow full of the sweetest flowers he had ever smelt.

Moaning, he woke up to lips on his neck and a loose hand around his cock. It wasn’t Harry. That was enough to have his eyes snapping open.

“You owe Hermione double now,” Weasley whispered into his ear. “She finished your essay for you.”

Lips touched his.

Draco moaned, arms going around his broad shoulders. The freckles scattered over his shoulder formed a blurry patch as Draco tried to muster up coherency.

“You won’t get any breakfast if you don’t wake up now.”

“Am awake,” Draco murmured against warm, hot, fiery skin. He opened his mouth to try to taste the flames, and he shuddered, remembering almost too late of fire licking at his feet, his friend unable to escape, his own heart pounding as he clung to Harry’s back. Clung to life.

He pulled away, breath short.

Weasley touched his cheek. “All right, Ferret?”

“Fire.” He shuddered.

But for some strange reason, Draco was sure that Weasley understood. His next kiss was soft, delicate.

“Harry had a hard time with the fire at first too,” he whispered. “In our world of Elementals, fire consumes earth. It does make the land more fertile to grow, but it is an initial sacrifice. And Air,” He paused for a moment and kept up a light touch of lips down Draco’s neck to his shoulder. “Air fuels fire. Oxygen. Makes it flare and go chaotic. You aren’t even part of our bond yet, and I want to fly with you, twist with you, engulf you until everything explodes.”

His hand tightened on Draco’s dick when he said that, and Draco whimpered.

“But really, we don’t have time.”

Draco breathed out a laugh.

Weasley kissed him again, a bit firmer, a bit longer, until Hermione’s voice floated up to them with a _Ronald Bilius, get your hand off his cock right now._

Weasley laughed. “She always sounds so commanding, but I’m in here waking you up because Harry had to go meet with the Headmistress about a Ministry thing, and she said she wanted to climb on your dick and never get off.”

Draco moaned. “Bugger me, you three are just randy lions.”

“And you’re the snake--” He winked. “--to pleasure us. Come on, Ferret. Time to eat.”

Weasley slid off the bed, his hand trailing down Draco’s leg. He shuddered and lay there for another moment before getting up himself. He put a hand on the bedpost as his world swirled for a moment and everything went blurry and then focused.

“Ferret?”

Draco waved a hand at him in dismissal, swallowing back a bit of nausea. “Got up too fast,” he said and then with a heavy breath pushed away and headed for the shower.

“I’ll wait for you,” Weasley said, and was his voice full of concern?

And wasn’t that disconcerting?

The lightheadedness did not abate through the shower, and the bright light in the bathroom started a dull throbbing behind his eyes. He moved slowly, probably too slowly, but any normal movements had his head spinning.

He needed to see Madame Pomfrey. Maybe.

When he walked out of the bathroom, Weasley was still there, lounging on his bed. Draco turned away from that long, lean, hard body on display in well-fitted jeans, a tight T-shirt, and loafers, not trainers.

“Never thought I’d ever think that freckles are sexy,” Draco said as he let his bathrobe fall.

Weasley said nothing for a moment, and Draco thought that he’d been insulted. It wasn’t completely meant that way, but when he turned to look at Weasley, after slipping on pants, the other was just staring at him, eyes dark. Almost brooding.

“Never thought I’d ever think that pale, pasty, snakeskin is sexy,” he whispered.

Draco laughed. “I’m beautiful, shut it, Weasel.”

“You are.”

Draco felt his skin flush as he turned away to keep dressing. Jeans again. His mother would have a fit. The jeans were supposed to be for weekends only. He slipped on a pale gray shirt. His fingers fumbled on the buttons.

When he sat to pull on his socks and shoes, the world swam again.

“Fuck,” Draco muttered.

“Hm?”

“Lightheaded a bit.”

“You’re probably just hungry.”

Draco wasn’t sure, but food was always a good idea. He stood up, using the bedpost again to steady himself.

And then Weasley was there, arms around his waist, “Or you’re still recovering from my mouth.” And kissed him.

Draco moaned and leaned against him, hands sliding over shoulder and up into his short hair. He pouted and said, “Can’t ... can’t ... pull.”

Weasley laughed. “I know. That’s the point. Harry couldn’t keep his hands out of my hair.”

“Guess now, they’ll just have to stray elsewhere,” and Draco slid them down his chest, to his stomach, fingers tugging at the T-shirt to touch warm skin.

“Bollocks, Dray, don’t.” But he did not stop kissing him.

Again, Hermione’s voice, _You have ten seconds before I start throwing hexes._

“She’s bluffing. She’d be expelled,” Weasley mumbled.

“McGonagall will take her side,” Draco said.

Weasley sighed and pulled away. “Teacher’s pet.”

Draco laughed. He stayed against Weasley’s side as they left the room, and then kept a hand on his shoulder as they wound down the stairs.

Hermione frowned and for a moment Draco felt like he was being twisted and buffeted in a fast moving river. He leaned against Weasley and just let it wash over him. Merlin, he was smiling.

“Feel better?” Weasley asked.

Draco nodded. “Yeah.” Another body moved in next to his, and Draco moved his hand to the back of Hermione’s neck. It was easy to find her lips without even opening his eyes, he just knew where they were. “Thank you for finishing my essay.”

She tittered at him in disapproval. “Don’t get used to it.”

“I could so get used to this,” he whispered and kissed her again.

He felt her entire body shiver, and her hands slid under his robes to his waist, and then she forcefully pulled herself away.

“Come on. Breakfast.”

Draco and Weasley laughed at her.

Draco leaned against Weasley almost all the way to the Great Hall. There were murmurs around them from the other students, but he was too tired to care. When he finally sat at the table, he leaned against Harry and almost went right back to sleep.

“Eat,” Harry said. “You’ll feet better.”

Draco grumbled good naturedly but did as he was told and ate the food on his plate. With each mouthful, he gained a little bit more energy. Halfway through breakfast, an owl dropped a parchment almost in his eggs. He gave it a bit of toast before it flew away.

The letter was from his mother.

_Draco Darling,_

_I am so happy for you, so happy for everything you have told me. I cannot even express it. Do be careful though. While I do believe this pride of Gryffindors is sincere, do not attempt to take advantage of it. Their friendship is pure and if they are extending it to you, even I know that it is without malice. I too had the shock of my life when I received an owl from Molly Weasley inviting me to tea._

Draco almost spit out his juice.

The others almost in unison asked, “What?”

“Weasley, your mother invited my mother to tea.”

Weasley froze, mouth open in shock. “What?”

Harry was laughing.

Draco read outloud:

_I too had a shock of my life when I received an owl from Molly Weasley inviting me to tea. I have not yet accepted the invitation because I was also unsure of the woman’s motives. But we must stop seeing traps wherever we go. Your new friendship with the Golden Trio has given me the courage to accept her invitation._

Draco looked up at Weasley.

“Your mum ... and my mum ... in the same ... Oh bloody hell.”

“I think the world might actually be coming to an end,” Harry said.

Draco smiled and continued reading the letter, his mother’s encouragement about Potions and Defence Against the Dark Arts. _We do not have to be alone anymore, Draco Darling. Let’s both do our best to put the past behind us. Do not forget your manners, young man. Hold your head high. You are still a Malfoy and I expect you to change what that means and to be proud of that._

Draco was certainly going to try.

\---

Another class with Slughorn was all sorts of torture. And also another surprise to learn that Hermione had signed up for the ingredients course too.

“I need all the help I can get to beat you,” she had said.

But it was nice to have a friend there. About half of those in Advanced Potions were taking this extra class, including Lovegood, and the Slytherin student, Alastor Prince. Draco was a bit surprised when he sat at their table, right next to Lovegood with no snide comments or dark looks.

He stared at Draco for a while. He had short black hair, dark eyes, mouth thinned as he appraised him. He was shorter than Draco, and definitely someone he’d had his eyes on to shag back in the day. Draco was sure that Blaise or Theo had gotten to him first.

“There are Slytherins talking about a traitor,” he said carefully.

Draco snorted, which had Prince smiling.

“They are mostly fourth and fifth-years that don’t really understand what we went through. What you went through. We crush the rumors when we hear them.”

“Thank you.”

Prince nodded. “You haven’t been to the common room yet,” he said carefully.

Draco shook his head. “Homework, classes. I realized today that I don’t have a single break all week.”

Prince’s eyes widened. “Busy. What about this weekend? Part of the reason why they’re murmuring so much is because you haven’t been by.”

“You should go,” Granger said. “Harry, Ron, and I have already been to the Gryffindor Tower, mostly during our breaks.”

Draco nodded. “I’ll come tonight.”

“Sit with them at lunch,” Granger suggested. “There’s no rule that says we have to stay at the eighth-year table. And McGonagall is pushing for Inter-House Unity. That can’t happen if there is dissent within the snake pit.”

Prince sort of glared at her, and then took a deep breath. “Granger is right.”

“She usually is,” Draco said and smiled at her.

She made a face.

“I’ll save you a seat,” Prince said when Professor Slughorn slipped into the room.

Draco nodded. “Okay.”

Slughorn’s eyes narrowed as they landed on Draco. Draco did not look away. It was a tense moment before ten parchments flew from the desk and to their tables.

Draco took one and glanced down at the extensive list of ingredients.

Professor Slughorn said, “By the end of the term, you will know all their names, their Latin names, their history, all their properties, all their uses. You will know which ones dilute and nullify a potion and which ones make them stronger. You will learn how they are harvested and prepared and how to not ruin the delicate balance of their life with the way they mix with other ingredients. You will know their similar properties and their substitutions. Now, Abalone shell.” 

Words appeared on the blackboard.

Draco, and the others scrambled for more parchment to start taking notes.

\---

Draco did not know how to feel with a Potions teacher that completely ignored him. He knew that Slughorn did not like him, or maybe Slughorn just did not like his name. But, being ignored was better than being ridiculed and picked on. Sort of like Severus had done to Harry and Weasley. Sort of? Draco snorted to himself. That was exactly what Severus had done to them.

“I hate that man,” Hermione whispered when they were far enough away from the Potions classroom.

“I am not a fan of him either,” Draco said. He asked Prince, “Is he okay as the Head of House? Does he help you?”

Prince shrugged. “He makes appearances almost every night, telling us to keep our chins up and stay out of trouble. Things like that. He doesn’t really expect that any of us are capable of not being little arseholes all the time. It’s like he’s waiting for someone to fuck it up.”

“And you’re not?” Draco said.

“No, of course not. We know the reputation of the House is sullied. We’re trying not to make it worse.”

“Good, so who’s in charge then?”

Prince rubbed the back of his neck. “We were hoping you would be. When we heard you were coming back, we knew that there’d be someone to lead us, show us ... what to do. None of us know how to ... we don’t ... they don’t understand what has been going on, with our parents and now the Ministry. And then you were given your own dorms, and well ... We want you to come and lead us.”

“The Heir of Slytherin,” Hermione grumbled. “Arrogant snake.”

Draco smiled at her. “Thank you.”

“You’re incorrigible.”

“Again, thank you.”

They entered the Great Hall, and Hermione left with a huff. Draco met Harry’s eyes and smiled, almost laughing as they narrowed when Draco went toward the Slytherin table. The other Slytherins visibly stiffened, and that just would not do. A Slytherin never showed what they were feeling on the inside. And Draco showed them that. He was very aware of not only the Slytherins’ gazes as he sat down next to Prince but everyone else’s too. Almost every eye in the Great Hall was trained on him. But he sat with his head high, his face in that perfect, arrogant mask that he learned to wear. He lifted an eyebrow at those daring enough to meet his gaze. Like the entire Ravenclaw table. They murmured and turned around to whisper about him.

Prince sat and said, “Chester, stop gaping like a first year Hufflepuff. Last I checked, Malfoy was a Slytherin.”

Draco noted those younger Slytherins who glared at him, those who guarded him cooly with the appropriate indifference, and those who stared with open amazement.

Prince started the conversation with Quidditch, a safe enough topic. “I hope we have a chance at the House Cup this year. Without a good Quidditch squad--”

“Who’s on the team?” Draco asked before the boy could make it sound like they sucked. Talk about a morale buster.

“I am,” Prince said. “A Chaser. We don’t have a Seeker, and we don’t have one Beater. Ariana down there,” -- He gestured to a tall, willowy blonde. -- “is our Keeper. She’s pretty amazing. We lost Astoria, who actually was a pretty decent Chaser, but she and Daphne didn’t come back this year. Luckily, Chester here,” Prince threw his arm around the seventh-year beside him-- “is almost as good a Chaser as I am, and we think that Genevieve Rosier should be a Chaser too, but she doesn’t want to play Quidditch.”

“Well, that’s ridiculous,” Draco said, turning to the sixth year girl a bit down the table from him. “Who doesn’t want to play Quidditch?”

She lifted her nose in the most perfect aristocratic way and flipped her long brown hair, and Draco bit back a smile. Good for her.

“Anthony Burke, that large fellow near the end, he’s only a fourth year, if you can believe it, wants to be our other Beater, but we’re waiting for tryouts.”

“Are you the captain?” Draco asked.

“No,” Prince said, just as Stonewall said, “Yes.”

Draco looked between them.

“Nott was our captain,” Stonewall said. “But it’s not like he’s here anymore, thank Merlin.”

“What was wrong with Theo?” Draco asked.

Their faces darkened, and Draco decided he did not want to know. Theodore Nott was in Azkaban at the moment. He did not know what went on at Hogwarts when the Dark Lord was in control, and he had been on house arrest during Theo’s trial. He held up his hand and said, “Okay. So Prince is your captain. I think that is a good choice, though I’d have to see all of you fly. When are you going to have tryouts?”

“The Headmistress said that we were allowed to start getting prepared for the season in two weeks.”

“Sooner than normal,” Draco noted.

“Yes, she says it’s because a lot of the teams need to be rebuilt,” Stonewall said.

“I wish you could play,” Prince said.

Draco grinned. “Me, too, but it isn’t fair.”

“And if you played, then I bet Harry Potter would demand to play too, and then we’d never win.”

“I am totally taking offence to that,” Draco said with a glare.

Prince met his eyes and said, “Come off it, you know he’s better than you.”

Draco turned and actually met Harry’s eyes. Harry was glaring at him. Positively glaring. “I will never, ever admit that. He got lucky during matches is all.”

“Why ... is he mad you’re over here?” Prince whispered. “I didn’t mean ...”

“Great, you pissed off the Chosen One,” Stonewall said. “Now all of Gryffindor is going to --”

“Calm down,” Draco said, still unable to look away from Harry. He smiled and gave him a little finger wave.

Harry’s eyes narrowed.

“He’s mad at me, not mad you lot. And don’t call him the Chosen One. He hates that.”

Harry very obviously looked to the left, and Draco followed his gaze. He noted with concern that McGonagall, Slughorn, and a few other teachers were watching him closely.

Draco sighed. “Apparently, I cannot sit with my House without garnering suspicion from the teachers. I’m going to go back to the eighth-year table. Keep me updated on the Quidditch tryouts. I’ll try to be there and help you out.”

Prince bit his lip and nodded. “Will you still come to the common room today?”

Draco nodded. “I’m helping Slughorn teach third years this afternoon, so I’ll be down there anyway. I’ll come by right after class.”

“Okay, Malfoy.”

“Call me Draco,” he said and then made sure most attention was on him when he said, “You can all call me Draco. I’m not who I used to be, just like Slytherin is not what it used to be, but that’s a discussion for privacy. See you later.”

“Bye.”

Draco stood up, hoping that his interrupted lunch would reappear on the plate at his own table. He walked down the Slytherin table, past the Ravenclaws who muttered under their breath. More than one foot tried to trip him, but he easily bypassed them. He hadn’t been a Seeker for four years to have reflexes that bad.

“What the hell was that?” Harry asked before Draco even sat down.

“Um, me sitting with my Housemates during lunch?”

“Harry, shut up,” Hermione said. “He was just talking to them. It’s fine.”

“Is it not fine for me to be with other Slytherins?” Draco asked Harry.

Harry huffed and had to take a few deep breaths. “No, it’s fine. It’s just ... that seventh-year was all over you.”

“Which one?”

“Alastor Prince,” Hermione said. “I think he touched your arm twice.”

Draco stared wide-eyed at Harry. “You consider that all over me?”

“Well, you didn’t ... notice the look in his eyes.”

“What look?”

“He might have a crush on you,” Hermione said.

Draco shook his head. “Or he’s floundering in a House trying to rebuild its reputation and was doing a bit of hero worshiping. You should know what hero worshiping looks like, Harry.”

Harry’s eyes narrowed and he obviously stood up and moved down the table to sit between Dean Thomas and Wayne Hopkins.

“Bloody hell,” Weasley muttered. “I am not sure I can take three more months of jealous possessive Harry. His emotions are crazy.”

“Do you think they’ll settle down once the bond is settled?” Draco asked.

“One can hope,” Weasley said.

\---

Within five minutes of sitting in the Potions classroom, Draco knew this had been a mistake. Professor Slughorn had not even looked at him, sitting on a stool near the teacher’s desk, and had proceeded to lay out the semester for the third-year Ravenclaws and Gryffindors.

A quiet third-year Ravenclaw named Heather Howe asked why Draco was there, and Slughorn ignored the question.

Draco spent three hours with his arms crossed, sitting up straight, and almost glaring at the professor.

In his anger, he’d forgotten about going to the Slytherin common room, and almost ran into Alastor outside the classroom door. He attempted to smile, and instead, turned with a growl and headed down the hall to their common room.

“I ... I ...” Alastor said behind him. “I wasn’t sure if you had the password. It was changed today.”

Draco stopped and turned to him. “Already?”

Alastor nodded. “After lunch, Professor Slughorn changed it.”

Draco narrowed his eyes and glared down the hall toward the Potions classroom. Not that he was surprised. “Well, thanks for meeting me then.”

They arrived at the stone entrance, and Draco straightened his back, kept the anger on his face, and waited for Alastor to say the password.

“I didn’t get it right the first time,” Alastor almost muttered to himself. “Sectumsempra.”

Draco froze even as the wall opened for him. “That’s ... that’s the password?”

Alastor frowned at him in concern. “Yes. Is ... none of us knew what it was, but how are we to complain for him giving us something so complicated?”

Sod Slughorn. Bugger, bastard of a professor!

Shaking, Draco took a very deep breath and stepped into a world that he had almost forgotten existed. Dim room, lit with a fire under the serpent mantle and sconces along the walls. The light wasn’t nearly as green as Draco remembered, and he could clearly see many of the chairs and sofas that used to be hidden in dark corners.

The light chatter in the common room almost stopped as Draco walked in. He swept his gaze over the room, noting the groupings of students within their own years. That hadn’t changed much.

But it felt like home. So much more like home than the room Astronomy Tower. And uncharacteristically, Draco fell into an armchair and almost smiled.

“What are you lot staring at? Last I checked, Draco Malfoy was a Slytherin.”

A few of the older students continued to stare, but the younger ones looked away.

Draco smirked and put on his drawl, because that’s who he was down here. Part him always would be. “Don’t worry. Alastor. They just don’t know how to act in the face of royalty.”

Alastor chuckled.

“Ah, and that reminds me,” Draco said, raising his voice a little. He was still pretty angry about Slughorn, so it was easy to be forceful and commanding. “You lot are not giving Slytherins a good name. I came and sat at our table during lunch and half of you looked like you’d seen a giant for the first time. Slytherins do not, under any circumstances, let their emotions show on their face in public. That is the quickest way for someone to take advantage of you. I understand that our reputation is a bit muddied--”

“A bit?” someone said, voice cracking.

Draco sneered in that direction, though he hadn’t seen who had said it. “Yes, a bit. We’re also trying to change our reputation. Apparently, we’re all slimy evil gits who hate Mudbloods and half-bloods, though I’m sure there are some half-bloods in this room right now.”

Alastor looked a bit uncomfortable.

“What?” Draco asked.

He waved his hand to a corner, where there was a boy sitting by himself. He wasn’t looking at Draco, his head down, hands in fists on his knees.

“That’s Jacob Erekson. He’s a Mudblood.”

Draco’s eyes went wide. “Bloody hell, really?” He sort of remembered the boy from the sorting. He’d been only one of eight new Slytherins.

“First-year.”

“And how exactly are you guys treating him?”

When the boy looked up, Draco got his answer. He had a black eye and bruises on his face. Glamoured, probably during the day.

Draco stood up, anger pushing him to yell. “Who did that? Who?”

No one, not even Alastor, would answer him.

“You do not hurt your Housemates, especially in times like this. There were times, when I was young, where the older ones would punish us for bringing shame on our House, losing points, or losing Quidditch matches, but if you lot are trying to change the reputation of this House, how dare you do this to one of your own, even if he is a Muggleborn!”

Draco stalked over to him, and the poor boy cowered in his seat. Crouching down, Draco said his name and said, “Hold still.”

Poor thing was shaking, but as a first-year, he did not know very many healing spells. Not yet. Draco had learned them in his second year, trying to hide the beating Marcus Flint had given him after losing to Harry in Quidditch that first time. And then perfected them when his home was crawling with Death Eaters.

He used his wand and said a few simple spells until the boy’s face was no longer hurt. He was a cute thing, brown hair, green eyes.

“Thank you, Mister Malfoy,” he said. Irish, too.

Draco smiled. “Call me Draco, okay? If any of these snakey bastards behind me hurt you again, come right to me, okay?”

He nodded. “I will.”

“You hear that?” Draco said, standing again. “Like all of you, like every single one of you in this room and the others in their dorm room trying not to listen, Jacob Erekson is under my protection, just like he should be under yours. I never thought I’d see the day that a Muggleborn was put into Slytherin, but that doesn’t change the fact that he was. You’re supposed to support each other. Same goes with something as simple as Quidditch. Your team is in shambles, and even if you don’t think you’re that good a flyer, you should be lining up during tryouts just to be supportive.”

Draco went back to his chair and sat down, not slouching, sitting up straight, and glaring at everyone that met his eyes.

“And the seventh-years,” Draco said, looking first to Alastor and then Stonewall, “you should be setting examples for the rest of them. Just because the teachers are aiming for inter-house unity doesn’t mean you can’t still be Slytherins. Now, I’m not going to tell you to go befriend the Hufflepuffs, but that also means that you shouldn’t go out of your way to insult them. Ravenclaws are muttering about Death Eaters all the time, and if you don’t want that kind of reputation, then you have to change it. I know I’m burdening you with my mistakes and the mistakes of those in the House before us, but I am doing my part. Trust me, I never thought I’d ever be friends with Gryffindorks, especially the Golden Trio, and now I’m friends with all three of them.”

“Someone said that you and Harry Potter are shagging,” Genevieve, the girl from lunch, said.

Draco snorted. “We aren’t. We’re roommates.”

“Couldn’t really blame you. He’s gorgeous.”

“That he is,” Draco said and smiled, “and still a pompous little brat with a hero complex. Look, there is a difference between evil and pride. You can be proud of Slytherin without being a prick about it. You can be proud of our heritage of smart, prestigious, pureblood witches and wizards without condoning the behavior of those that went crazy. Be proud of you, be proud of us. It’s even hard for me to say that because of the mistakes that I made in the war and the things I have done afterward. Don’t give the other Houses a reason to say that all the rumors and history of the Slytherins is true.”

Silence fell for a few seconds, and then a deep voice drawled, “Are we supposed to applaud now?”

Draco found the boy who asked. A fifth-year. Probably one of those that Alastor said was cursing him and calling him a traitor.

“If you’d like. I won’t mind,” Draco said with a smirk.

A few students chuckled.

Draco kept eye contact with the boy for a moment and then Alastor touched his arm and said, “Can I talk to you in private?”

He would not meet Draco’s eyes, and he looked nervous. Behind him, Stonewall was glaring, first at Alastor’s back and then at Draco.

“Sure, but this is what I mean. You’re showing your emotions on your face. You all need to learn not to do that. Even now, someone in one of the other Houses might try to use your feelings against you. Someone even in this House.”

The tension in the common room had dropped, and Draco stood up to follow Alastor into the dorm room.

He stopped at the doorway and took a heavy breath. This had been the last room he’d been in, shared with Greg and Vince, Theo and Blaise. He missed his friends desperately, but he also missed being ignorant of their own hubris, their own ideals. Everything had been so perfect then. He shut his eyes and then walked in. It looked the same, and part of him wondered why that disappointed him.

Alastor shut the door, waving a Silencing spell on the door and a Eavesdropping Deduction Charm. Draco whistled in awe. “That is a complicated charm.”

“I’ve learned that I need it.”

“Who was the disagreeable prick there at the end?”

“Terence Crouch. He’s a fifth year.”

“Crouch, well, that makes lots of sense. So what did you want to talk about?”

Alastor winced and turned away from him. He moved to what Draco assumed was his bed. “I ... I know it’s been a couple years, but before ... when you were a fifth year.”

Draco had a hard time remembering. It was so different than it was now.

“I just ... there were times when you were looking at me ... and I was ... are you and Harry Potter really together?”

And Draco understood. It was this kind of talk. Hermione was right. Again. Alastor Prince had a crush on him.

It was true, before in fifth year, he had stared long and hard at Alastor for more than a few weeks. He’d thought about it a lot, but he’d had enough with Theo and Blaise in the same room. There were days when he couldn’t walk without healing charms because of how horny Theo always was.

Draco smiled and sat down on a trunk. “Yes,” he said, not lying to him at all.

He felt bad when Alastor’s face fell a little, but unlike some, he was better at the mask, and it was up in a moment. Though his shoulders were still curled a bit dejectedly.

“It wasn’t really my doing,” Draco said. “I was alone on the train when Harry and the other two came and sat with me. I did not even want to talk to them this year. And then Harry and I were given our own room, and well, like Genevieve said. He’s pretty gorgeous. I wasn’t going to say no when he offered.”

“Oh. But it’s serious?”

Draco chuckled. “You want a quick fuck, Alastor?”

He actually blushed.

Draco shook his head. “Emotions are showing all over your face.”

“I can’t help it,” he almost whispered. “I’ve been ... in love ... idolizing you since I started at Hogwarts. Probably before. My father made sure that I knew who you were, like I wouldn’t have known anyway, and how important it was to be friends with you and obey you.”

“And what about Stonewall, huh?”

“Chester?” He glanced over, face confused.

“Did you not notice the glare that he shot me when you asked me for privacy?”

Alastor’s eyes went wide. “But he... he’s ... he’s just my friend.”

“Come off it. By the time I was a fifth year, I’d either sucked off and been fucked by everyone in my year, girls included. Not to mention all the circle jerks with the other years.”

“Well, yeah, we’ve fooled around, but ... but ... you think he likes me, like that?”

“Probably. You never know until you ask.”

“Oh Merlin, that’s going to be embarrassing.”

“Probably not. I bet tonight, he’s going to feel just a little bit possessive and not want anyone to touch you but him. Just wait until he’s shagged out his aggression and then go for it.” 

“But ... it’s ... like ... but you ... and I love you, though.”

Draco shook his head. “Even when we were in school together, I didn’t really even know you, or anyone from your year for that matter. I had plans during sixth year to do something about it, but I was trying not to die and trying not to give the Dark Lord a reason to torture my family. Sure I noticed you looking and I did a fair bit of looking myself, but you don’t really know anything about me in order to love me.”

“And Potter does?” he asked with venom.

Draco tried not to glare and said, “Yes. This is the first week in my entire life that I haven’t been fighting with him. We’re learning how to deal with each other when it isn’t at the other end of wands. Look, Alastor, we haven’t shagged yet. Nothing more than a couple of handjobs, but he knows me better than anyone but my mother. That means a lot more to me than the fact that he’s sexy.”

Alastor sighed and dropped his face in his hands.

“You’ve been attached to Stonewall since you started here, haven’t you?”

“Just like you and Zabini.”

“Hopefully not exactly like us. I treated Zabini like shite. I treated them all like shite because I was a Malfoy and better than them. And if I had done anything to you before, it would have been the same thing.”

The wards flared red just before a knock sounded on the door. A small voice said, “Um, Prince. Harry Potter is here to fetch Malfoy.”

Malfoy scowled and shouted, “Fetch me? To fetch me. Tell Harry Potter I’m not his bloody lap dog.”

Alastor dropped the silencing charm and said, “Now you should say that.”

Draco glared at his smile. “Fetch me? How dare he?” He stood up and stalked to the door, throwing it open. The second-year girl fled with a little yelp, and Draco stalked into the common room.

Harry stood right in the middle of it, his Gryffindor robes and tie standing out amongst all the green and silver.

“You let a bloody, sodding Gryffindor into the Slytherin common room?” Draco said in amazement.

They looked down and shuffled their feet a bit. A brave sixth-year said, “Um, but it’s Harry Potter.”

“But ... he’s a Gryffindor. And there hasn’t been anyone from another House in this common room for centuries.”

Harry laughed. “That is not true. This is not the first time I’ve been in here.” He winked.

“What? When?”

“I’ll tell you later. Are you coming to dinner?”

“Of course I’m coming to dinner, Harry. We can find the Great Hall without your leadership, you know. You don’t need to keep tabs on me.”

The Slytherins sort of laughed. Not sure if it was a joke or not. The Malfoy-Potter rivalry was legendary even among the younger students.

Harry frowned at him. “Excuse me for wanting to make sure these snakes didn’t torture you for you being friends with Gryffindors.”

Now that was an insult.

But Draco chuckled, distilling the anger before it could really grow. “They’re more concerned about the rumor of us shagging.”

And finally Harry smiled. “Rumor, huh? Pretty sure you gave me a handjob in the shower the other day.”

Surprised titters filled the room, and Draco felt himself flush a bit. Damn Harry. He shrugged, nonchalantly. “When did a handjob count as shagging?”

“And in the empty classroom on day two?”

Draco really flushed, and the older Slytherins cheered and hooted at them both. “Yes, well. Still not shagging, even if your ass was bare and pale as the moon. I say we go to dinner, yeah?”

With a lighthearted step, Draco led the way out of the common room, Harry following behind. He wasn’t surprised when Alastor caught up to him.

“Harry, this is Alastor Prince, seventh-year, and a Chaser for the team.”

Harry smiled at him. “Good to meet you. Prince of Slytherin? Isn’t that your title, Malfoy?”

Draco snorted. “Prince? Nah. I’m the king now. Emperor even.”

Harry laughed. “It is nice to meet you, Alastor.”

Alastor cleared his throat. “You, too, Harry Potter, sir.”

“Sir?” Draco gawffed.

Harry shoved him. “Shut up, Ferret.”

“I was told by my parents to thank you for everything you did as soon as I got the chance,” Alastor said.

Harry smiled, though he looked uncomfortable. “I wasn’t the only one that did it, but I’m glad I was part of it. Now, we just have to make sure it doesn’t happen again. Gotta keep you Slytherins from turning into evil gits.”

“Hey, there were plenty of Ravenclaws that were Death Eaters too,” Draco said.

Harry frowned. “And a Gryffindor or two. It isn’t based on House, and you’re right. So I’m sorry. So Alastor, how are plans for Quidditch? I’m assuming you’re the captain?”

Alastor nodded. “Chester and I,” he waved behind them. “We’re building almost from the ground up, so we’ll know more about our chances when we have all of our positions filled.”

“Bugger, I want to play,” Harry said. “I think I’m going to ask McGonagall if we can at least have an exhibition game.”

“For bragging rights?” Draco asked. “I’ll take that opportunity.”

Harry laughed. “When have you ever gotten to be able to brag about Quidditch except when your father bought your place on the team?”

“And now I hate you again,” Draco said and glared.

“The truth hurts,” Harry said. 

Draco smiled, and among the Slytherins who knew about the handjob, Draco did not care and pulled him close, pressing a kiss to his forehead. There were more catcalls, but Draco ignored them. It made Harry smile.

They parted ways once they got into the Great Hall, silence falling to see the great Harry Potter surrounded by a bunch of Slytherins.

“Better get your Quidditch team ready soon, Prince,” Harry called after they parted. “Gryffindor is going to destroy you in November and enjoy every moment of it.”

Alastor shot him the two finger salute, even if it meant that ten points were deducted from Slytherin. Most of the Slytherins took up the cry to defend their House and the Gryffindors were quick to join in. It was a bit loud until Professor McGonagall called everyone back to order.

Harry laughed. “See you later, mate!”

And if that wasn’t enough to startle most of the Great Hall silent again.

“I wish you’d stop doing that,” Hermione said. “You’re going to give everyone a heart attack.”

Harry laughed and sat across from her. Draco sat next to him, suddenly starving.

“How was teaching?” Hermione asked.

Draco glowered. “Useless. Pointless. A complete waste of my time. Slughorn didn’t even introduce me to the students. I sat on a stool and did nothing. They looked at me, one girl even asked what I was doing there, and Slughorn ignored her. I can’t do this, ‘Mione. I am not going to sit there and be belittled like that when I can be using the time to do homework and relax.”

“You’re just going to have to do it yourself then,” Hermione said. “Get up and walk around the students like Slughorn does. What is he going to do? Make a scene and tell you to sit back down? You’re supposed to be teaching.”

Draco thought about that, and Granger was right. He was just going to have to be a bit more Slytherin about it.


	7. Sexy Strategy

After dinner, Weasley threw his arm around Draco’s shoulders and said, “I hear you’re pretty good at Wizard’s Chess, Malfoy. Fancy a game?”

Draco snorted. “Only if you want to lose.”

Everyone else laughed. Everyone. Weasley smirked at him, lacing his hands behind his head and rocking back on his feet.

“Ron is wicked on a chessboard,” Padmil Patil said. “The only one I’ve ever seen beat him is his brother George, and I’m pretty sure George knows how to cheat.”

Draco glanced over at Hermione with an eyebrow raised. A silent question of, “Is this true?”

“You spent so long thinking he was stupid because he’s a Weasley,” Granger said. “I actually can’t wait to watch.”

“I have my own board,” Weasley said. “Both black and white are pretty loyal to me. So, to be fair, I think we should use Macmillan’s board.”

“Sure, mate,” Macmillan said. “Let me grab it.”

Weasley broke away from him and crossed his arms. “Pick where you want to meet your doom, Ferret.”

Draco rolled his eyes. “Dramatic much, Weasel? I don’t care where I beat you.”

Weasley’s eyes narrowed and he moved to one of the smaller tables. Draco made a show of taking off his school robes and flinging them over the back of the chair. He unbuttoned his cuffs and rolled up his shirt sleeves. Weasley did the same with his robes and then turned the chair backwards and straddled it, crossing his too-muscley arms over the back of it. Draco sat way more properly, his back straight and legs crossed, and they glared at each other for the few seconds it took for MacMillan to return with his chessboard. Glaring was better than staring at the way his veins stood out up and down his forearms or at how his shoulder muscles looked ready to break out of his shirtsleeves.

The other eighth-years conjured, gathered, or floated over chairs and cushions to watch.

Macmillan’s board opened between them, the pieces floating to their correct spaces. He took a white pawn and a black pawn, shuffled them behind his back and held out his closed hands.

Weasley indicated that Draco should choose and he took the hand closest to him. Black. Perfect.

With no further preamble or bantering, Weasley started the game. The pieces were unfamiliar and many times offered both of them suggestions. Weasley shut them down pretty quickly, taking control of the stone players within just a few moves. Draco always watched his opponents for that. Sometimes the pieces could win or a lose a game without the wizard knowing how to properly use them. He also ignored suggestions from the black pieces.

Within a few minutes, he knew that Ronald Bilius Weasley was bloody good at Wizard's Chess. Their audience started making wagers, cheering when pieces were taken or Weasley managed to get out of a jam.

Draco did his best to ignore them, just as Weasley did, eyes never leaving the board. Eyes watching and calculating.

Bugger, Draco was fucked.

A tall strong confident Weasley was sexy. A tall strong confident and brilliant strategist Weasley? Yeah. There was no way that Draco could ever say no to that.

Truly and desperately fucked.

Weasley beat him. Draco had thought he had a chance near the end when he took Weasley’s queen, but it was just a matter of time before one of them was cornered. He barely saw it coming. Sure he had two or three more moves with his rook and queen, but Weasley tossed him into checkmate with nothing more than a bishop and the only pawn left on the board, with a knight and rook providing backup.

Draco’s king threw his crown to the board and Weasley’s bishop slid over and swung its staff right at the king’s head. He crumpled and Draco leaned away with a sigh.

Weasley crossed his arms over the back of the chair and smirked at him. “It’s about time someone actually got close to challenging me. Let me guess. You were just warming up?”

Draco lifted his chin with a defiant smirk.

“Another go?”

Draco smiled slow and predatory. “Sure, Weasel.”

The crowd groaned, but there were still people changing Galleons.

The board reset itself, and Draco concentrated on the pieces. Not the way Weasley’s forearms were lined with veins and hair and freckles. And the muscles were firm and ...

Shite.

Draco was fucked. And he absolutely loved it.

\---

“So, Ferret,” Harry said just as Draco removed his shirt for bed.

“So, Scarhead,” Draco prompted and glanced at him.

Harry was staring at him, eyes flashing green a bit. “Is it okay if we just assume the inevitable and I crawl into bed with you now?”

Draco chuckled. “Yeah. That’s okay.”

Everything went dim and then green. Draco heard Harry changing his clothes, but did not look at him. If he looked, he would touch, and it was already difficult enough to keep from touching. Whenever they were even near each other, Draco stepped closer to be next to him, lifted a hand to touch him, fought back the urge to kiss him.

Maybe it was the bond. Maybe Harry was just sexy. Maybe it was both.

He slipped into bed, breathing long and slow to keep himself calm. He had his hands behind his head and eyes shut when the bed dipped. Draco kept his eyes shut and smiled. Hands rubbed up his chest. Lips followed. And then a tongue. He barely felt it and realized that Harry was tracing the _Sectumsempra_ scar up along his chest. He hadn’t had feeling there since the curse had ripped through his skin.

Draco took one hand and tangled it in Harry’s long hair. His body stiffened, his breath going short. But even the shame and heartache that came from remembering that day in the bathroom was not enough to stop him from being hard. He was getting used to this pre-teen constant state of arousal that Harry pulled from him.

He was only a little surprised when Harry pressed a kiss to his lips.

Harry sighed and said, “I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean ... I just ... I’m so sorry.” He traced the scar with his fingers.

Draco chuckled. “You’ve apologized already, Harry. More than once.”

“I know, but I feel wretched. You were ... just ... broken, I guess. And I made it worse.”

“I was about to _Crucio_ you, if you’ll remember. Neither of us was innocent that day.”

Harry pouted.

“Slughorn changed the Slytherin password to Sectumsempra.”

Harry lifted up his head, eyes actually flashing green. “Sodding prick ... I will-”

Draco shook his head. “I don’t want him to know that he got to me at all. I can’t. He’s turned this into a personal battle, so I will keep it that way. This isn’t the same as him not offering to let me teach. This is petty and childish, and I will not stoop to his level.”

“It is pretty ridiculous, even for a Slytherin bent on revenge.”

“If it was for revenge, I’d completely understand. But it isn’t. He’s just being an arse.”

Harry frowned and then nodded. “I won’t demand that he change it, if you’re sure.”

“I’m sure. It won’t be that forever. Slytherin passwords change every fortnight. Kiss me,” Draco said when it looked like Harry might say more.

Harry huffed, breath warm against Draco’s mouth. With fingers in his hair, he turned Draco’s mouth enough for a kiss. It was a comforting kiss, one of familiarity. One that felt like Draco had been kissing Harry his entire life instead of just the last few days. He felt and understood everything Harry was even without knowing it all. He wanted to know it all. He wanted to ask questions and talk about him, them, the other two.

Maybe soon. When he did not have an urge to kiss Harry all the time. He was glad it was the weekend. Maybe he could kiss Harry all day tomorrow and Sunday.

“Kissing you is frustrating,” Harry muttered.

Draco glared at him and then said, “Sod off, Potter.”

Laughing, Harry curled against his chest, mouth open on his shoulder and over his collarbone. “I love it. You know I do.” And he shifted his hips to show Draco just how much he loved it with a firm erection pressed to his hip. “I just want so much more. I want ... I want you in the bond. I want our magic to dance together. Either it’s impatient. Or I am.”

“Or both,” Draco said. “Unfulfilled magicks are dangerous. Hermione said that the bond worked because of the strength of your friendship and love for each other. I’m sure that’s only part of it. The other part of it is that you’re a really powerful wizard. Without you, I’m sure it would have failed.”

“Without you,” Harry said and met his eyes, fiery green up almost too close. “Without you, it would have failed. It worked because I was already connected to you. If I wasn’t, we would all be dead. Hermione can’t come to grips with that. She thought it would work with three, but it didn’t. We were not enough. It needed you. I need you.”

Draco glanced away but did not say anything against that. There were too many coincidences and feelings inside him to continue to doubt that he was connected to the Golden Trio in some way.

“Hermione has a few theories about what would happen if we had sex now.”

Draco glanced over to his trunk, at the piles of research that he hadn’t gotten around to reading yet. “What theories?”

“The strongest one is that it would make the effects of the bond on you worse. So, like the other day when you were exhausted, you’d always feel like that. It is possible that all it will take is sex to add you to it. I mean, you are already kinda there, but that theory doesn’t make sense for all the magical preparation we had to go through. She also theorizes that nothing would happen and that would mean you weren’t our Ventus, but that theory is already shot because you are feeling what we feel with each other.”

“I’m not ready anyway,” Draco said carefully. “This is just ... you are asking a lot of me.”

Harry pouted. “But it’d feel good. Amazing even.”

Draco laughed and pushed Harry’s face with his hand, just teasing. “Duh. It’s sex. Of course, sex will feel good.”

“I meant the bond with you in it will feel good, but maybe just a blowjob won’t matter.”

“Maybe you can go back to your own bed.” Draco tried to roll away from him. The idea was definitely not horrible. But he was not ready for this.

Harry pressed a kiss to his shoulder. “Fine, fine, fine.”

Draco resettled and let Harry curl up against his chest, fingers still light on his skin. It was quiet for a moment.

Harry traced the scars on his chest. He huffed out a sigh. “I’m sorry.”

Draco took a deep breath. “You’re forgiven. You are. I promise. Gryffindors aren’t the only ones that can push away old grudges and past grievances.”

“I know,” Harry said. “Kiss me.”

Draco had no problem following that demand.

\---

Morning came too soon. Way too soon, but Draco woke up to the eerie green glow of a Avadara curse slashing through his dreams and he did not want to go back to sleep. Harry slept on, smiling a little, snuffing. A dream, obviously. At least it wasn’t a nightmare.

Draco turned just enough to run a hand up and down his back, the touch light and steady. He did not pause on the scars left behind from the war.

He hadn’t really had a chance yet to really look at him, analyze him, see him for what he had turned into. They were almost twenty now. Blimely, twenty. Draco knew that he’d grown taller the last few years, bulked out the last few months now that he didn’t have a Dark Lord megalomaniac in his house. Harry had too. Not taller, just stronger. He was gorgeous, and Draco felt a little less perfect next to him. Just a little. His hand found its way into Harry’s longer hair. It was still a mess, but less crazy than when they were younger and it seemed to have a mind of its own. And soft. Much softer than he was expecting. His back and arse (Merlin, Harry needed to learn to sleep in something!) were a paler shade than his arms and legs. A fair smattering of hair covered his legs, going lighter up the curves of his arse.

He was beautiful, and Draco was gone. Lost. Falling.

Harry’s back rose with a heavy breath, body going still for a moment and then relaxing. He shuffled closer to Draco with a happy noise and said something that sounded like Draco’s name.

“Fuck,” Draco gasped when it was suddenly too hard to breathe, his chest too tight, throat closed off with too many emotions.

Too intense, too close, too much, too much.

His eyes hurt, flooded and tears spilled somewhere, and it wasn’t fear. Okay, so it mostly wasn’t fear. Part of it was so very terrifying. Most of it wasn’t. Most of it ... most of it was acceptance. Welcoming. Into something ... into something so perfect and pure and ...

Draco was only vaguely aware of their door opening. He felt the bed move, felt warm hands on his own skin, but nothing really made sense through the heavy sense of doom.

Doom? For this? Was this happiness? Wasn’t it supposed to be?

Maybe there was an answer in lips against his. Maybe there was an answer to the hot skin under his hands. He felt supported and cradled and ...

Worshiped?

Nothing was right. Nothing felt wrong, but it wasn’t right! It wasn’t ... it wasn’t ...

His mouth was taken in another kiss, his body moved, the bed and blankets soft under his back. He let himself grow lost in the mouth against his, in the skin under his hands, in the whimpers from his throat. Tears were still drying even as his silk pajama bottoms tented with arousal. His mind was still wavering between flight or fight even as his legs fell open and let the heat of Ronald Weasley hover over him.

“I know I said I wasn’t going to call you a pet name or anything, Ferret,” Weasley muttered against his mouth, “but I think I’m going to have to start calling you beautiful.”

“Shite,” Draco managed. The only intelligible word spiraling through his brain, and when Weasley asked, “Tell me what you need,” Draco thought it most unfair.

Single words.

“You.”

“Kiss.”

“Skin.”

“Fuck.”

It all twisted in his brain, twisted with the images of fire and vines. Heat and home.

Love.

Belonging.

Draco shook his head and yanked himself away with a cry.

Other lips landed on his shoulder and everything felt blue and wet and calm for a moment. Enough for him to breathe properly at least.

“Bugger me,” Draco gasped.

“Sure thing, beautiful.”

Draco’s skin flushed and he almost laughed at Hermione telling Weasley to knock it off. His emotions were out of control. So was his body, legs sprawling open, letting Weasley settle between them, ground down on his body, rub against his cock. He whimpered, thrummed, begged something. Everything was swimming again.

Lips touched his. Softer lips. A softer press of a chest against his other side. For a blissful moment everything was clear. Ron between his legs, Harry’s lip on his nipple, Hermione’s tongue in his mouth, fingers caressing his neck. Everything just hung, like someone had cast a “slow down spell.”

And then the waves were back and his moans were louder and his body was no longer his own. Shaking and shivering, shattering with his orgasm that dirtied his pants and pyjama bottoms probably beyond any cleaning spell. Which made all the more sense to them being taken off the next moment. He bent his quaking legs, gasping into the mouth still demanding kisses, as his bottoms were taken off.

A hot mouth closed around his sensitive dick, sucking and licking him clean. He’d have tugged on the head, pulled Weasley away, along with the heavy moan leaving his mouth, but one hand was trapped under Hermione and the other was tangled in Harry’s long black hair.

Weasley’s mouth was probably the best thing in the entire world. It took a few long seconds for Draco to realize that he was licking up Draco’s spunk and completely and obviously attempting to shove up his leg. Draco felt like putty and had no problems allowing it, settling his bent knee on Weasley’s shoulder, letting Weasley move his mouth and tongue and teeth down the back of his thigh, along the curves of his arse and up his cleft.

Someone grunted next to him, and Draco tilted his head, blurry vision focusing on Harry above him. He pouted, but his eyes were dancing with green.

“What?” Draco managed to say, voice almost broken.

“You tell me no, but you’ll spread your legs for Ron?”

Draco sighed at the rumble of laughter against his left arsecheek. Ron. Yes. Ron.

Draco’s reply didn’t even make it completely through his brain before he was moaning again because Weasley decided to lick at his arsehole.

“We really should not be doing this,” Hermione said and resumed their kiss.

Harry sucked on his neck.

Fingers curled around his dick. Smaller, softer than Weasley’s. Hermione’s probably. He smiled and managed to get a hand down Harry’s body, gripping his arse. Another hand pulled at his other knee, lifting him up a bit from the bed.

Weasley pressed his fingers against Draco’s entrance, a light caress for only a moment and then pushed one into him.

Draco moaned into Hermione’s mouth, hips jerking up on his own.

Everything tingled for a moment, a flash of heat spread through his lower body, and then Weasley’s finger just slipped into him, a slow, slick touch inside his body where he hadn’t been touched in a long time. There was another moment of clarity that mostly had to do with his dick throbbing in Hermione’s hand while Weasley pressed a second finger into him.

_We should not be doing this._

Shite.

Draco knew that. He knew that.

His body moved under strong hands, pulling him down the bed. The other two were dislodged, their muttered protests muffled as they moved with each other.

Draco’s mouth was no longer being kissed and he frowned up at Weasley.

At Ron. Ron who was smiling at him. The look on his face a mixture of delectable promise and adoring concern.

Ron leaned over him, Draco’s knees bent at his elbows. Their lips brushed.

“Do you want this, beautiful? Do you want my dick inside you?”

“Un-unfair question at the moment.”

“If you tell me you don’t want it, then I’m going to rut out my orgasm against your body. I have way more control than Harry,” Weasley said and looked to their left.

Draco followed his gaze to the other two, and Harry was already buried deep inside Hermione and she was rolling her hips against his body. There were vines sliding up Hermione’s back. One of them slipped down and toward Draco, pausing for a moment.

Draco managed to get a finger along its smooth length and it wiggled toward them, going between their chests. It felt ... tingly against his skin. Like Harry..

Weasley thrust against him lightly, his hard cock sliding between his thigh and stomach, over Draco’s leaking erection.

Draco smiled, slid a hand up and over Weasley’s shoulder and pulled him down for a heavy kiss. It was only interrupted when Draco said, “I want this.”

Weasley smirked, actually smirked at him, and it had Draco rolling his eyes. “Shut up, Weasel.”

“I’m so tempted to make you beg me.”

Draco pressed his lips together and shook his head.

“Next time.” Chuckling, Weasley shifted up onto his knees, pulling Draco again. He trailed fingers from one hand up his chest, leaving tiny flashes of heat all along his skin. Draco gasped, arching off the bed. He stiffened, his moan echoing around them when the thick head of Weasley’s erection pushed inside him. He dug his nails into Weasley’s arms, and then cried out when that warm hand encircled his cock. He rocked up, pushed down, and took more of Weasley into him.

The hot hand on his dick tightened, and once against everything sort of weaved and wavered. That single vine had found his nipple and was twisting around it, tightening, twirling.

His body was on edge and he splattered clear fluid onto his stomach.

Weasley pressed deeper, his moans a quieter bass to Draco’s higher whimpers.

It didn’t hurt. Not at all. It was just too slow. He felt every buggering bit of Weasley push into him, wanted it all, and was flailing a little when hands encircled his wrists and pinned them above his head. And then he could only move his hips and he did, jerking up into Weasley’s grip on his cock and pushing back onto Ron’s dick.

The wavering shattered and he was coming again, his orgasm painting up to his chest in heavy strips of white. And his whimpers were just whimpers. They were cries of Weasley’s name. “Ron, Ron, Ron, Ron,” as his body shook and fell apart beneath Weasley’s heat.

Ron’s heat. Everything was so hot.

Ron sank into him the rest of the way with a heavy moan. “Fuck, tight.”

The tangy head of a dick touched his lips and he turned his head, mouth open, breath heavy, but just managing to lick at the come dripping from Harry’s slit.

Lips closed around his erection too and he was shuddering through another weak pulse of orgasm while Hermione swallowed him.

There was no coming down from this high. Not anytime soon and Draco didn’t care, didn’t try. He kept his hips moving with Ron’s thrusts, managed to take Harry’s wide prick into his throat, and just moved between them. A perfect cadence. A perfect tempo of time passing between love and acceptance and belonging.

Harry let go of his wrists and he moved one hand to cup Harry’s balls, slide back to tease his entrance, and the other hand went to Hermione’s hair. Harry tangled his hands in Draco’s hair, thrusting a little faster into his mouth. Still shallow, still tangy with come, and Draco swallowed the taste as best he could while his body still moved rhythmically from Ron’s thrusts. He was aware of muttered curses, praises, mostly groans and pants. And his own noises, mostly muffled moans of Ron’s name.

He didn’t think he was going to come again, but with Weasley thrusting into him and Hermione’s mouth on his dick, another strong wave of pleasure was threatening, building, moving, and he felt the tantalizing, teasing touches of magic inside him more than on his skin. They felt of each of them: hotheaded, cool and calm, eager and happy. But there was a touch of his own. He did not know how he knew the difference. He did not know what it felt like to the other three, but it was there. He pulled away from Harry’s cock, gasping in heavy breaths of air.

Harry protested with a whimper, but still slid his dick over Draco’s lips, his hand jerking himself off. Draco tried, but the magic was twisting too much and he was dizzy and happy. Everything centered around him and when his eyes shut, he saw streaks of blue, green, red and silver behind his eyelids.

His chest tightened again, because he was there, between them, with them, part of them, and he swallowed back emotions, crying out as the pleasure peaked and Ron’s thrusts sped up. Draco was only vaguely aware of Harry coming, splattering his release all over Draco’s face and into his open mouth. He swallowed and moaned and felt everything shatter between them, and for a brief moment that felt like eternity, the colors in his eyes, the magicks in his soul, were one strong heavy stream of everything they were. Everything the three of them were. And Draco too. He felt it so keenly in his soul. Felt the three of them. All four of them.

Connected. Secure.

And then the magicks split and Draco was coming, shouting out his release with Ron and moaning, crying and jerking through the pleasure that once against splattered from his dick and covered his stomach in white streaks of come.

Somehow Ron found his lips, muffling his own moans against Draco’s as he rode out his orgasm, hips jerking through the pleasure. Everything tasted like come, but smelled like lightning, electric and sizzling.

Was that him? Air in their little elemental world?

Maybe.

Another tongue pressed against his mouth and Ron moved enough to let Hermione kiss him, and he pried open his eyes to see Harry and Ron kissing. Black and Red. Green and Red. And Blue. And Silver. Colors blurring with his vision. His chest tightening and cutting short his gasping breath.

It was too much. Too much emotion. Too much ... of ... something. Draco had no idea.

He sagged against the bed, eyes shut. Fingers wiped first at the traces of come on his face and then at his tears. Ron slipped out of him with a sigh, moving to this other side. But Draco’s legs stayed up in the air, because Harry went between him, pulling his arsecheeks apart to suck and eat the come out of his ass.

Draco moaned at the sensual slide of his tongue on too sensitive skin and his cock twitched, pulsing another clump of come onto his skin.

Ron chuckled and kissed him.

Hermione kissed down his body.

When Harry was done between his legs, he joined Hermione to lick up the spunk around his cock.

Ron kept kissing him, a dirty hand spreading come into his hair.

Draco pulled away and made a face. “Really, Weasley, my hair?”

Ron laughed. “It’s fucking everywhere, Ferret. Harry comes a lot.”

And Draco felt it then, sticky clumps near his forehead and ear and Ron licked a heavy strip up his face.

Breasts pressed against his chest, and Hermione snuggled up against him. Her hair was a mess, half out of the bun, curly and wavy around her head.

She smiled and kissed him for a moment before burying her face up under his neck. Harry moved behind her, a soft hand up and down her back. His hand moved between her legs, and she moaned, opening her mouth and sucking at Draco’s neck.

Ron chuckled. “Feel good, ‘Mione?”

“Always,” she whispered and then bit down when Harry’s fingers twisted inside her.

Draco hissed at the sharp pain.

Ron seemed to think sucking on his neck was a good idea, because he moved enough to get his other side, and the two of them left little bites and hickys up and down his neck and down his collarbones. His dick twitched where it was nestled against Hermione’s thigh.

They were all still riding the high, but Draco was much too tired for more sex.

Maybe. Maybe one more orgasm.

He had no idea how many times the others had come. Ron, maybe only once. Hermione was shuddering against him a few moments later, Harry’s mouth on her ass, fingers still thrusting inside her.

Ron turned his head for another kiss while Hermione quaked through her orgasm. Probably the third one? Draco had no idea.

“You okay, beautiful?” Ron whispered, and Draco flushed, his chest going tight, and he ducked his head.

A stupid little pet name and he completely understood Harry now. It was a compliment and a promise all buried into a single word.

Draco whimpered, mostly embarrassed and hid his face against Ron’s freckled chest.

Ron chuckled, the sound vibrating through his skin.

“Merlin, we’re disgusting,” Draco said, tonguing at sweat-slicked and freckled skin. He noticed before, but noted now that the freckles were indeed everywhere.

The other three laughed.

Hermione mumbled something that sounded like a cleaning spell and a cool wave of magic flew over them.

And then Harry mumbled something that felt so calming and so perfect that Draco relaxed with a huge smile on his face. Another word had them covered with Draco’s blanket. And he was cocooned with all three of them, buried against Ron with Hermione on top of him, and Harry pressed against his other side, adding his own bites to Draco’s shoulder.

Draco was sure they slept for a little while because the next time he was aware of anything, sunlight was fighting against the curtains and there were a few plates of food under a warming charm waiting on their desk.

When Draco shifted, so did the other three, slowly becoming aware of everything. Skin and smiles, and Draco did not stop Ron from kissing him, Hermione from sucking the skin on his back.

Harry was the first to sit up, and he held out a hand. His glasses shot over to his hand and he put them on before reaching high and stretching. Draco placed a hand on his stomach and Harry smiled down at him.

“You okay?” Harry asked, his voice soft.

A heavy question sure. But Draco returned his smile and nodded, unable to really say anything past the lump of emotion and tightness of his chest.

Ron pulled Draco close and hummed against his neck. He wasn’t really awake. Draco did not mind. He was exhausted. Now that his mind was clear enough to realize it. It was like the other morning when he’d been lightheaded and tired. He probably needed to eat. The food looked so far away.

Harry was the first out of the bed, sauntering toward the bathroom, and Draco watched the muscles of his ass and thighs move and he had to lick his lips. Harry was gorgeous.

“Come on,” Hermione said and tugged at his arm. “Sit up.” She waved her hand and a bowl of porridge flew over to her hand.

Draco grumbled, but did as he was asked and managed to pry himself away from Ron’s arms and sit up. He wavered, his head spinning a little. But he steadied at a cool brush of magic from Hermione.

Like before, he felt much better after he had eaten. The four of them crowded on his bed to eat and then returned to snuggling under the blankets for a little while doing nothing more than just smiling and kissing each other.

Someone pounded on their door. “Oi! Harry! Ron! Neville’s here!”

Harry smiled. “Just in time to finish my Herbology homework.”

“Lazy arse,” Hermione grumbled, though she gripped the arse in question with a smile.

“Come on,” Harry said. “Get up. Let’s go say hello.”

“Shite,” Ron said. “Hermione and I came over here starkers.”

Harry rolled his eyes. “Are you a wizard or not?”

The two of them smiled and Draco felt a bit lost. Their soft looks showed that it was definitely an inside joke.

Hermione climbed out of the bed with Harry and went to his mess of clothes. She Transfigured a dress for herself out of one Harry’s T-shirts and slipped it over her naked body. It clung to her breasts and hips and Draco felt himself harden a little.

“Down boy,” Ron breathed against his ear. “That’s my girlfriend you’re getting all hard over.”

“That’s your girlfriend that swallowed down my cock like it was dessert,” Draco said back.

Ron laughed. “She does love a mouthful of come.”

Hermione shot him a two fingered salute and left the room, Harry laughing as he trailed after her.

The door shut behind them and Ron was suddenly over him pressing him to the bed, elbows by Draco’s head. He smiled down at him and pressed a kiss to his lips.

“I knew your skin would look delicious covered in hickys.” He moved his mouth down Draco’s neck.

 _Ronald Bilius Weasley!_ Hermione’s voice shouted at him.

Ron laughed again, breath warm on Draco’s chest. “Just because,” he muttered and then sucked another hicky into Draco’s skin.

Draco sighed and tugged at his head, only half of a protest.

Ron pressed a kiss to the new mark and then another one to his lips before rolling away to charm some of Harry’s clothes into a pair of jeans. He found one of his own T-shirts in Harry’s pile of stuff.

“You’re gorgeous,” Draco managed to say when Ron’s strong ass disappeared behind denim.

Ron smirked over at him. “I know.”

Draco laughed. “Arrogant lion.”

“If you got it, flaunt it,” Ron said and flexed his arms, and Draco’s entire body almost thrummed with lust.

“Felt that,” Ron said as he left the room.

Draco huffed and fell back onto the bed. Ron felt that. Did that mean they were connected too? Or more connected? How much had their night together, their first night of actual penetrative sex, affected the bond?

He remembered the sex, the way his magic had just ... combined ... with the other three. He shivered. It had felt absolutely perfect.

Was it there? Had Hermione’s theory been true that all they had to do was have sex? He didn’t think so. He’d really only had sex with Ron.

Weasley. Ron. Bugger. He’d started calling him Ron in his head.

He was doomed.

Smiling at his idiocy and how absolutely happy he was, Draco managed to get out of the bed, only swaying a little bit. Unlike the other three, Draco took a shower. He thought about their sex, trying to analyse it from a clinical point of view, but there had been nothing clinical or routine about last night. His body ached, some of the bite marks stung. He thought about casting a glamour on them, but had a feeling the other three would be upset about that. Instead, he showed them off. He wore a pair of his jeans, one of the tighter pair, and then a blue silk shirt with the top three buttons undone. Again, he left his hair to just dry on its own.

He left the bedroom barefoot.

Conversation in the common room stopped as he went down the stairs. And yes, he felt that fiery pulsing flame of lust from a fiery redhead.

But it was Harry who met him at the bottom of the stairs and wrapped his arms around his neck and devoured his mouth.

“Told you. Shagging,” Finnigan said.

Harry smiled over at him. “Now we are.”

Technically, they hadn’t, but the four of them was obviously a secret.

There were grumbles around the common room and a few galleons exchanged hands, including Dean Thomas handing Finnigan five of them and saying out loud, almost like he had been compelled with a charm, “I, Dean Thomas, know nothing and Seamus is the smartest wizard in the entire world, and I should do well to learn from him, especially when it comes to things like shagging. I owe him a fantastic blowjob.”

There was silence for a little while and then laughter.

Harry tugged him over to where Longbottom and the other two were lounging on a couch. Draco sat in a chair and Harry fell into his lap.

Draco smiled over at Longbottom. “Hullo, Longbottom. How is your grandmother?”

Neville was a bit wary, but he nodded at Draco and said, “Malfoy. She’s doing just fine. She practically kicked me out of the house to get me to Hogwarts.”

“Sounds like her,” Draco said with a grin. “She has always been crazy.”

Longbottom glared at him.

“Careful, mate,” Harry said. “Neville here has experience slicing open snakes.”

“I didn’t meant it as an insult,” Draco said. “Your grandmother is powerful and demands respect. You never really know what she will do next.”

“She was in Ravenclaw,” Longbottom said proudly. “She is brilliant.”

Draco nodded. “She is. I meant no disrespect.”

“For once,” Longbottom said with a glare.

“Well, yes.”

“He’s changed, Nev,” Harry said, snuggling into his neck. “Still a bit of a wanker, but sexy and amazing and not really a huge idiot anymore.”

Draco took a very deep breath against a childish retort. But his body stiffened, and Harry chuckled against his chest.

Longbottom glanced down and then narrowed his eyes. “Why is there a Flitterbloom vine wrapped around your wrist?”

Draco shifted his arm to hide the vine and cleared his throat.

“He found it in Herbology,” Harry said to him. “Oh, hey, Nev. Can you finish my Herbology homework? Sprout is being completely evil already. A foot on all of our items for the major project.” Harry climbed off his lap and said, “Come here. I’ll show you what we have to do.”

Longbottom glared at Draco for a moment longer and then followed Harry to a desk that had his schoolwork sprawled all over it.

“So, Ferret,” Ron said.

Draco frowned a bit that he wasn’t called beautiful, but he figured that was just for in the bedroom and being alone.

“What?”

“The chessboard is still up. Want to lose again?”

“Ron, you have homework,” Hermione reminded him.

He waved her away, eyes gleaming.

Draco had spent eight years never being able to ignore that challenge in those bright blue eyes. “You’re on, Weasel.”

\---

After dinner, Draco was full of energy. It was weird. He wanted to jump, dance, run around, something. It was spiraling out of his control and he could not stop fucking smiling.

Harry stopped him from walking to a chair in the common room and said, “Come talk to me.”

Draco smiled and almost bounced up the stairs.

They were in the room for only a moment before Harry had his arms around his waist and their lips together. Draco did not mind that at all and pushed his overflowing energy into the kiss.

“Talk, huh?” he said when Harry yanked on his T-shirt, pulling it over his head.

“Your fault. Your magic is going insane.” Harry’s hands were on his bare chest, up and down his skin, over his shoulders and then into his hair to yank him back for another heavy kiss.

“Huh?” Draco pulled away. Or tried to. Harry plastered himself to his side.

“Your magic,” Harry murmured against his neck. “It’s spiraling. Needs an outlet.”

“And you’ll let me outlet with you?”

“That was horrible.”

“Stop talking.”

The awkwardness was gone, thank Merlin. That morning seemed to have destroyed whatever tentativeness had existed between them. And whatever objections Draco had about this being too soon.

Oh, it was still too soon, but when the option was orgasm or not orgasm, Draco didn’t know any nineteen-year-old guy who would choose not. Well, except him, when he’d denied Harry the night before. And where had that left him? Horny only a few hours later and spreading his legs and practically begging Ron to fuck him.

Shite.

Harry pulled away almost abruptly. He waved a hand between them and their clothes slithered to the floor. Another wave had a complicated silencing charm and locking charm on the door. The symbols burned blue and red for a moment before being swallowed by green.

Draco smirked over at Harry. “Want me all to yourself, Potter?”

“Yes,” Harry said and threw himself at him. Well, not so violently, but their lips were together again, hands all over each other again, sliding over arms, down backs, gripping cocks. And walking. Moving back toward the bed.

Stumbling.

The bed was too large to really just fall and fuck, so Draco reluctantly let Harry go and followed Harry onto the bed.

“How fast is this going to be?” Draco asked.

Harry smirked at him, waved his hand over his own body, and said, “Fast. Fuck me.” He gripped behind his knees, spreading himself open, and Draco stared. Harry’s spelled had slicked him up and gleaming trails were already pulsing from his body.

“You know, there are things called healing spells,” Draco said, running a soft finger around the slickened hole that burned red. It pulsed under his fingertip, clenching tight and then gaping open in invitation.

Harry smiled, eyes fluttering shut as Draco pressed in a finger. “I like it. It reminds me of ... of ... well, of them. Soon to be you. Come on. Come on.”

Draco did not roll his eyes because he was a Malfoy, but lifted an eyebrow and stared down at him. “I’d ask if you are always this impatient, but I’ve spent almost eight years learning that that is true.”

Harry moved a hand just to flip him two fingers.

Draco laughed and put his hand in its place, keeping Harry’s knee bent. He leaned over him, other hand holding down his dick. Even with all the Malfoy upbringing, he wasn’t able to stop his shudder or huff of pleasure at the slickness along his cock. He pushed, sinking into Harry almost too much at once. Not too much for Harry, just for himself.

He fell forward, hands to either side of Harry’s head. Harry bent with him easily, knees hooked on Draco’s arms.

Draco moaned, finishing the thrust, until they were pressed together, and he just stopped, unable to do much more within the heat of Harry’s body.

Harry shifted and Draco let him, moving his arms until Harry’s legs were wrapped around his body, heels digging into his lower back. Draco pressed his forehead to Harry’s shoulder, body curved through a thrust, quick in and out. He gasped, the sound muffled on Harry’s skin, and he did it again.

When he could mostly breathe, he growled. “Merlin, Potter. Don’t get used to this. Next time, I’m going to play with you.”

Harry’s hands tangled in his hair and yanked his head up for a kiss.

“Lick you,” Draco promised. “Prep you. Without magic. Just my tongue and fingers.”

Harry moaned, hips lifting from the bed to get Draco to move.

Everything tightened around him, and Draco echoed his moan. “Going to tease you ... fuck, Harry.”

“Next time.”

They kissed again. Or more of their mouths just open and together, breathing together, closing every now and then.

Draco finally moved, hands holding him up at a good angle, hips snapping forward. There was no reason for slow if Harry wanted it hard and fast. Harry pulled his hair, Draco’s gasps broken with Harry’s whimpers. Their bodies were suddenly flush, together, just rocking, with Draco barely leaving the tightness and heat of Harry.

Within the haze, Draco felt the green touch of light around him. The feeling of being held and secure and home, and he gasped, pulling away from Harry’s mouth. Everything was green with Harry’s light. Draco decided he had to get used to that.

And used to Harry, below him, kissing him, touching him, whimpering for him to move. Please. Please. Please.

Draco glanced down at him and grinned. “You know you don’t have to beg me, right?”

Harry smiled. “You like it.”

“Ron likes it. I like you.”

Harry laughed. “Fine. I won’t beg. Now, shut up and fuck me until I come.”

Draco laughed with him. “Yes, sir.” He shifted back to his knees, gripping the strength of Harry’s thighs. He took a deep breath and gave Harry just what he wanted, dicking into him steadily. He watched for a moment the way he moved in and out of him, through the magicked slick, the rim stretching and clinging to him.

“Gods,” Draco moaned and gripped Harry’s dick, stroking him in time to his own thrusts.

Harry dug his nails into Draco’s arm, back arching off the bed, head pressed tight to the pillows. His moan echoed around them and he was coming, shooting ropes of his release up his stomach and chest, looking almost like another set of scars on the tanned expanse of skin.

Draco fell over him with a gasp, the pulses of his body pulling Draco’s orgasm from him almost violently. He rutted out his pleasure, his head going foggy and gray. A wicked wind twisted around them, blowing sweaty hair off his face, disturbing the hangings of the bed.

“Christ,” Harry said, body shaking. He buried his face against Draco’s shoulder and bit down. “Jesus Fucking Merlin.”

Within the pleasure still flinging through him, Draco realized that Harry was coming again.

The wind died to a soft breeze. It felt ... normal. Why not have a wind blowing through a room that had a window that was obviously and firmly shut?

Draco snorted.

Harry was still shaking, and Draco put his arm up under his back, curling against him, hips still moving a little.

“Shite, you feel so ... just so ...” Harry lifted his head and kissed him. He was crying.

Draco tried to hold him more tightly.

“You felt the wind,” Harry muttered. “You felt it. You can’t deny it. Please, don’t. I can’t ... I couldn’t handle it if you said no. I need you. We need you.”

Draco took a deep breath. “I know,” he whispered. “I know, but ...”

Harry pouted up at him, and Draco smiled.

“It’s too soon,” Draco whispered. “You’re asking me to make an unbreakable bond and connect myself to three people that ...”

Harry covered his mouth with a hand. “Shut up. You sound like Hermione.”

“You love each other?”

“Of course.”

“Then allow me that. You have an eight-year head start. I never grew up with delusions of love, Harry. I was betrothed to Daphne Greengrass. I was expected to marry and provide an heir for the Malfoy name. This is so far from that, so far from the expectations that I am used to. I need to have more time.”

Harry pouted again. “Fine, Ferret. Have your romance.”

Draco smiled. “It’s more than just romance. It’s trust. It’s respect. It’s enjoyment. And it’s also self-preservation. I almost died too many times already, and now you’re asking me to make an unbreakable bond that will kill me if one of you three die? I do not have the same connection to you. You have to understand that.”

Harry sighed. “I know. I understand that.”

“But?”

His frowned turned into a smirk. “But I want you. All of you. All to myself. Every bit of slimey, arrogant Slytherin.”

Draco chuckled. “All to yourself, huh? Does that mean you’re not going to lower the wards on the door and let the other two join us for the night?”

“That is exactly what it means.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey all! Glad you're still reading. Just a quick personal note: RL is about to suck for a little while. I'm going to be super busy. I was hoping to finish this before then, but Draco is taking is sweet precious time weaseling his way into the Golden Trio. It might be a week or so before I update again.
> 
> <3 <3 <3


	8. Research is Foreplay

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay in updating. Real life got a bit hectic. I'm aiming for 10 parts to this fic. It might be 11. I'm not quite sure. It depends on how stubborn Draco is and how horny Harry is. :)

Draco did not wake up to his wand trilling at him. Which meant it was Sunday, the only day he was ever allowed to sleep in. But the light through the window was dimmer than a morning glow, and he sighed, unable to turn off that annoying internal charm that woke him up.

And then he became aware of fingertips grazing at the bend of his hip, up and down, pressure along his hip bone, a soft touch of a palm over his morning erection. No wonder he woke up.

“Damn you to Hades, Potter,” Draco grumbled and tried to burrow back into his pillow.

Harry chuckled and added pressure to the touches. “Can’t keep my hands off you.”

“Going to hex you as soon as I can think straight.”

“You’d be expelled. I better keep that from happening,” Harry said and gripped his dick, mouth against his shoulder, and the blurry morning haze easily and eagerly morphed into an orgasmic euphoric haze.

As happened last night, his orgasm was accompanied by a cool brush of wind.

Draco smiled, pulled Harry around to kiss him senseless. He had every intention of staying just like that, maybe going for a second orgasm, and then Harry pulled away with a sigh.

“What?” Draco asked.

“Hermione is picking apart my wards.”

Draco chuckled. “But they’re strong, right?”

“Yeah, but she knows my magic, and she’s connected to it, too. So eventually she’ll break them.”

“Let’s go get in the shower then,” Draco said. “Cleaning charms are great, but I want hot water.”

“And me?”

Draco smiled and pulled him in for another kiss. “Definitely you.” He rolled out of the bed, felt a bit of compulsion to go open the door and lifted an eyebrow at Harry.

He smiled. “Feel that, do you?”

Draco nodded.

“Hermione is trying to use you to get through the door.”

“It’s disconcerting, Potter. It feels really ... weird.”

Harry nodded. “You do get used to it, but ... it is weird because you are not ... you’re not in the bond. Not like we are. Not even halfway. But ... it is weird. I do not understand how you can feel us, how you can sense her, how you can feel your wind, but not be part of the bond. Hermione is researching it.”

They entered the bathroom together, Draco going to the shower to turn on the water while Harry used the loo, and then they switched places. He slipped into the shower with Harry, hands immediately wrapping around his waist, face at Harry’s neck. He shut his eyes against the heated water spray.

Harry leaned back against him. “This is weird,” he said. “There is no way that I’d be alive if it wasn’t for your mum or you,. I just ... but you were such a little brat, and now I can’t even ... I can’t live without you, Draco. I can’t. I don’t want to. It’s a weird disconnect in my head. I’ve come to peace with it mostly. Hermione and Ron have not. Not completely.”

“I was a little shite. I know. I still ...” Draco took a very deep breath, careful with his words. “I’m still a Malfoy. I will always take pride in that, but if I ever have children, I want them to be proud of the name too. Right now, I cannot do that. I need to reform, but in what way? I have no desire to gain influence the way my father did. Most of those who followed him would have rather spat in his face. I want respect, but not from fear or coercion.”

Harry turned around in his arms, his own over Draco’s shoulder. “I’ll respect you more if you get on your knees and suck my dick.”

Draco laughed.

“Tit for tat,” Harry said and pulled away, pouting for a kiss.

Draco obliged. “I do owe you, don’t I?” he murmured against Harry’s lips.

Harry hummed in agreement.

Draco kissed him for a moment longer, wiping his hands up and down his back in a firm stroke. He kept them both under the water for a little longer, relaxing under the spray but growing hard under the influence of the kiss.

“Love kissing you,” Harry said with a happy sigh.

Draco smiled and finally pulled away. He kept his fingers light, a caress down Harry’s sides and then up his stomach and over his nipples. Harry shivered and said, “Please, please.”

He tightened his grip on Harry’s hips and lowered himself to his knees. He touched the fading bite mark at his hip first. “How did you get this?”

Harry swallowed roughly, eyes shutting to think. Draco moved his hand under Harry’s dick and cradled his bullocks.

“Shit ... Hermione,” Harry managed. “Ron was fucking her from behind and this is the result of her orgasm.”

“And triggered yours, I bet?” Draco prompted and licked it. He pumped Harry’s prick with a few firm tugs.

Harry gasped. “Yes.”

Draco sucked on the bruised skin harshly, biting down on the chunk in his mouth. Harry’s moan echoed around the stone walls, his hips bucked forward. He kept sucking until the faded mark flared purple and red again.

Smiling against his skin, Draco moved his mouth. He used his hand to pulled Harry’s cock down and then licked at the head for a moment, around the ridge, tonguing the slit. Fingers tangled in his hair and pulled, and Draco winced, unintentionally tightening his mouth around Harry’s dick, and Harry thrust, almost gagging him.

Draco pulled away and glared.

Harry’s smile was mostly repentant. With a huff, Draco went back to his dick, but this time, he pushed at Harry’s hips until his ass was on the cold stone wall behind him. The hot water hit their sides, and Draco shifted enough that it was not streaming right in his face. He held Harry firmly and sucked him down, gagging on his own at first before getting a feel for him. His dick was thick, with a slight bend near the head that made the soft crown slide over the roof of Draco’s mouth. Harry continued to pull his hair, his whimpers and gasps echoing around them.

Draco used one hand to grab at Harry’s balls and yanked them down at the same rhythm. Harry’s moans wavered between just noise and Draco’s name. His hands tightened, yanking on Draco’s hair, and then he was coming, shaking, shivering through his release that Draco was not expecting. He pulled off with a cough and felt the warm splatters on his cheek, chin and shoulder.

“S-sorry. Shit ... just .. fuck, Dray, I just ...” Harry slid down the wall and Draco hugged him close, still on his knees. Harry buried his face in Draco’s neck, and it took a moment for Draco to realize that Harry was not kissing him but licking up his own come.

They sat in silence while Harry’s body stopped shaking.

“Sorry,” Harry said again. “I can’t ... I can’t control myself with you. My magic just ... I just ... I want you so badly.”

Draco pulled away and cupped his cheek before leaning into him for a soft kiss. “I want you, too. I do.”

“Do you want to be part of our bond?”

“It is too soon for me to answer that question, and I really need to read those things Hermione left for me.”

Harry sighed. “I know. I’m being completely unfair.” He tugged at Draco’s hair, yanking him back to his mouth. They stayed there and kissed until Draco’s knees ached on the hard stone floor.

“Come on, let’s get clean and find something to eat.”

“I am starving.”

“Me, too.”

“Mostly for your dick.”

Draco felt himself flush, but managed to stand up while Harry laughed at him. Harry’s hands were firm on Draco’s hips, his mouth warm just above Draco’s ass, and Draco shivered. Harry did nothing more than use his grip to stand and then wrapped his arms around Draco’s waist and pressed a kiss to his back.

“Am I allowed to kiss you in the middle of the Great Hall yet?”

Draco paused in his washing for a moment, and then turned around to let Harry into the shower stream. He thought about that while rubbing Harry’s body with the soap.

“Just hearing you call me ‘mate’ has given most of them heart attacks,” Draco said. “I’m not sure we should finish them off and stun them dead.”

“Then I’m going to hold your hand.”

Draco smiled. “That’s okay. Shite, though, let me owl my mother today and warn her. She doesn’t need to hear about that from gossip.”

Harry laughed.

They finished their shower with wandering hands and a few heavy kisses. It was only the grumbling of both their stomachs that finally had them leaving the warmth of the bathroom. It took a few more kisses and some very strong self-discipline to keep them both from tumbling into a bed and never crawling out of it.

To Draco’s surprise, there was food again on the desk, underneath a warming charm. Harry put on nothing more than pants and then sat down to eat.

Draco wore a pair of his jeans and had just pulled a tight fitting T-shirt over his head when the door opened.

“Hi, Hermione,” Harry said, voice happy and innocent.

Hermione stood in the middle of their room with her hands on her hips and a scowl on her face. She wore a colorful dress with multiple patterns in white, teal, blue and green. It clung to her body, smooth over her hips, a bit loose over her chest. Draco was sure she wasn’t wearing a bra. She was barefoot, and her hair was loose and stylishly wild around her face.

“Harry James Potter. I am just ...”

It was Draco that moved over to her and shut her up with a kiss, sliding a hand around her waist. The dress was a clingy cotton that felt ultra soft under his fingertips as he rested them at the small of her back. “Good morning.”

Hermione’s eyes fluttered shut from the kiss. Her hands fluttered above Draco’s waist before settling at his sides. She smiled for the moment it took for their lips to part and her eyes to open. Then she remembered that she was upset and she scowled at him, pushing him away.

They laughed and she returned to standing with her hands on her hips. “You are ... both ... just ... how dare you, Harry. What if you had needed us?”

Harry smiled and kept eating.

“Apparently, all he needed was me last night.”

Hermione glared at him.

Draco fought the urge to flirt because he had no idea how she’d take it at the moment. Instead, he said, “I’m caught up enough on my homework to read those materials you gave me.” He waved his hand at his trunk where most of them sat. “Any suggestions on where to start?”

Hermione sighed and crossed her arms. “Gryffindor’s journal. It’s where I started.”

Draco nodded. “I’ll do that.”

“Dray, come and eat,” Harry said. “You’re starving.”

“I am starving.” He moved over to Harry and sat down, his stomach complaining loudly at the sudden smell of food.

Even if he was famished, he was not shoveling food into his mouth like Harry. Merlin, talk about horrific table manners.

Hermione sat on his bed and crossed her legs, the dress stretched over her knees. She stared at him with a harsh expression, and then a moment later, her cool blue magic wrapped around him. It did more than that, but Draco was not sure what as it sank into him and spread to his fingertips and toes.

“Just a diagnostics of sorts,” Hermione mumbled, feeling his trepidation.

It sort of tickled under his skin.

“Am I at death’s door?” Draco asked after a moment of silence. “Ask for me tomorrow and you will find me a grave man, is that it?”

“Did you just quote Muggle literature?” Hermione asked, an eyebrow raised.

“Do you really think William Shakespeare was a Muggle?” he countered with a grin. “Thou sodden-witted lord! Thou hast no more brain than I have in mine elbows.”

Hermione opened her mouth and then shut it, her eyes wide. “No way,” she almost whispered.

Draco shrugged. “There is no real proof in the Muggle world that he actually exists, now is there?”

“Goddamn,” Hermione gasped.

“I will have Mum send me some of his original works. We have a few in the Manor Library. I am sure she will not mind. She found the man’s plays to be trite and crude.”

Her eyes stayed open in shock.

Draco laughed. “Granger, your diagnostics?”

“O, speak to me no more--

Draco finished the quote with her, “These words like daggers enter my ears.”

They both laughed, Hermione leaning forward to press a hand to his leg. “You’re just fine. You aren’t dying. Everything is normal, which is why it’s weird that you’re already connected to us. For all intents and purposes, you aren’t there, you shouldn’t be there, and you shouldn’t be feeling anything.”

“Harry said I wasn’t in the bond yet, but it was starting to feel like it.”

Hermione nodded. “Perhaps ... Harry has always felt a connection to you, like I said before. This is just going to take time.”

Harry snorted. “Time? Really? More time? How much more time?”

“You’re impatient.”

“There is no way that time is going to connect him to us.”

“But there is a way for time to make me want it,” Draco said and continued to eat.

Harry growled and stood up, pacing around the room. Draco felt a tsunami of blue collide with Harry, strong enough that he staggered and had to grip a bedpost to keep from tumbling. He glared at Hermione.

“Calm down, Potter,” she all but snapped. “Draco will make his own choice and you will not influence it by being an impatient, arrogant, possessive prick!”

Harry fell back to the bed with a sigh, arms spread, chest and stomach still on display. Firm thighs, dusted with hair and scattered with scars.

“Sorry, Draco,” Harry whispered.

Draco glanced at Hermione. She was not satisfied with his apology. With a grin, he said, “So do you want to spend your Sunday rebuffing advances from randy lions or do you want to sit up here and read with me?”

Hermione laughed. “No contest, Draco. No contest.”

Harry grumbled through the rest of their breakfast that was almost lunch and then he pressed a kiss to Draco’s cheek and Hermione’s lips and said, “Have fun doing work on a bloody Sunday, nerds.”

“We will,” Hermione said with a laugh. Harry shot her the two finger salute as he went out the door.

Draco took the books and journals and put them on the bed. He sat near the pillows and Hermione sat near the end of the bed, leaning against one of the posts.

“Start with this one,” Hermione said, handing him a thick book bound in leather. It had Gryffindor’s lion embossed on the front. He touched it and the lion moved, its mouth opening in a silent roar.

“Wow. Brilliant,” Draco said.

Hermione nodded. “I’d hoped to find one of the others’ personal journals too, but no luck with that yet. I asked Helena Ravenclaw’s ghost if her mother kept a journal, but that woman refuses to say anything. Again.”

“Again? And wait? What? There is a Ravenclaw ghost is here?”

Hermione bit her lower lip and winced. “Shite. That was a secret ... sorry. I wasn’t ... anyway. She is Rowena Ravenclaw’s daughter. And yes, she’s here. The Grey Lady.”

Draco stared at her. “And again? What does that mean?”

“She was instrumental in helping Harry find a Horcrux so he could defeat Voldemort, but she sure as hell took her precious time about giving up information.”

“Wow. What other secrets do you lot know about Hogwarts?”

Hermione grinned. “A lot.” She pointed to the book. “You should start reading.”

Draco stared at her for another moment and then huffed and opened the journal. The very first page said, “Greetings, Sire of Slytherin. It appears that you are not worthy to read the words within this book. Kindly remove your snakey face. Regards, Godric.”

Draco snorted. “What a tosser.”

Hermione tilted her head in question and said, “What?” as she leaned over the journal. “There’s ... it’s just talking about his day. How is that offensive?”

Draco looked up at her and then back down at the journal. He read the message out loud.

Hermione laughed. “It’s like the Marauders all over again.”

“Marauders?” Draco said. “Oh, right, McGonagall told me to ask about them. She said she hasn’t had so much trouble with students--talking about you three, of course--since the Marauders. But she didn’t say who they were.”

Hermione rose from the bed and went to Harry’s trunk. “Harry definitely will not mind me showing you this. It’s sort of like a family heirloom.” She opened the trunk and tutted, hands on her hips. “This boy, I swear, he just ... such a mess.” She held out her hand a small bit of parchment rose into it, expanding as it went. She came back to the bed, a sinister smile on her face, and handed the parchment to him.

“There’s a secret to this, but I really want to see what they’ll say to you, so I’m not going to tell.”

“What?” Draco said, taking the parchment.

It was old and looked frail. Definitely worthy of the bin.

“Open it,” Hermione said.

Draco saw no visible way to do so since it was just a single piece of parchment, so it obviously needed magic. He took his wand from his pocket and pointed it at the parchment.

“Open up.”

Scrolling ink covered the parchment.

_Messers Moony and Padfoot would ask that you kindly take your selfish, slimey, smelly Slytherin hands off this._

Another scroll almost sliced across it.

_And Mister Prongs would like to hex your grubby Malfoy face for even thinking you could touch it._

Hermione laughed.

Draco stared.

“Try another one,” Hermione suggested.

Draco cast a revealing spell on it.

_Messers Moony and Wormtail are insulted that you think we did not think to charm this against such a low level spell. And Messers Prongs and Padfoot would like to demand that you once again take your snakey, cowardly, repulsive, Slytherin hands off our parchment._

“Oh, this was so worth it,” Hermione gasped through her chuckles.

Another message scrolled over the page: _The spawn of Malfoy will never be worthy enough to see our secrets. Good day to you._

_Messers Padfoot and Prongs hope that you fall in the Great Lake and become food for the Giant Squid._

_Messer Moony hopes not because snake meat probably doesn’t taste good and he does not want the Giant Squid to suffer like that._

Draco stared up at Hermione with wide eyes. “What the bullocks?”

Hermione laughed. “The Marauders’ Map.”

She took the parchment from him, tapped it and said, “I solemnly swear that I am up to no good.”

Before Draco’s eyes, the parchment expanded and opened and twisted until a map of Hogwarts spread open between them. “How ... is this ... wow. I knew that Harry was getting away with shite somehow. Between this and his Invisibility Cloak, he’s almost untouchable. Little wanker.”

Hermione smiled. “Yes. This map saved his life more than once. These men, they were all students here. Moony is Remus Lupin. He was a werewolf, you know. He was friends with Sirius Black, Peter Pettigrew and James Potter.”

“Peter Pettigrew, Wormtail,” Draco said. “And Harry’s Patronus is a stag, so Prongs is James, and Padfoot is Sirius Black?”

“Yes. The three of them learned to be Animagi in their fifth year to help Remus during the full moons. James was a stag and Sirius was a big black dog.”

“Wow.” Draco leaned over the map. It was open to where they were, in the Astronomy Tower. He noted the feet and names. Filch was near the library and Mrs. Norris was prowling near the kitchens. “It shows every single person.”

“Yes,” Hermione said. “Sixth year, Harry poured over this map, looking for you. It doesn’t show who is inside the Room of Requirement, because that room is unplottable, but when you came out of it ... well, it’s how he always seemed to know where you were. That year did not start the obsession he had with you, but it sure compounded it.”

Draco bit his lip and turned away. “Shite, that was so stupid, Hermione. I just ... I should have ...”

She smiled at him and put a hand on his arm. In the tense silence, she suddenly laughed.

“What?” Draco asked, looking at her.

She tapped a part of the map, and Draco leaned over to read it. Ronald Weasley and Harry Potter were in what Draco assumed by the map to be Ron and Neville’s room. Their names were practically on top of each other.

Draco smiled. “Like I said. Randy Lions.”

Hermione tapped the map again and said, “Mischief managed,” and the map folded back down to a spare bit of parchment. “Harry got this from Fred and George Weasley. I don’t really know why they gave it to him. I think they developed their own that was a bit better. I’m not sure if there is a password or something on Godric Gryffindor’s journal that will allow you to read it. I can read it outloud if you want.”

“Sure.”

“Or I can put it in my lap and see if that will let you read the words ...” She turned around on the bed and propped open the journal on her legs. Draco scooted close to her, a hand on the bed on her other side and leaned over her shoulder. Her hair tickled his face.

But he could see the words now.

As Hermione said, it was just discussing his day. The first page said, “Journal #289 of Sir Godric Gryffindor, est. 1013.”

The English was a bit difficult to understand at first, but Draco had spent many hours during his summers reading ancient texts written in Old English. He grew used to the language difference easily.

Most of the first entry was about the joy he found in watching his students learn. There was a paragraph that said, “Seeing their faces, seeing their joy is what lessens the pain in my chest, lessens the ache in my soul. Magickally, we may still feel whole, but there is still a wide hole in my entire being which misses the one meant to fill it. I promised myself that this journal would be free of him just like our lives are free of him, but I should have known better. How dare he! Alas, he will forever be with us. Somewhere.”

Hermione read a little faster than him, but Draco attributed that to her having read it before, not because she was better than him. Definitely not. When she was ready to turn the page, she touched the corner, and Draco made a noise that signaled he was ready. They read this way for almost an hour before Draco’s arm decided to go numb and his back reminded him that he should not be hunched over for so long.

“I’ve always seen Godric as some ridiculous hero, charging in with his sword drawn,” Draco whispered as he leaned back. “But he’s so full of emotion.”

“I can sympathise to a point,” Hermione said. “I know that I would die if Harry or Ron were not with me. It’s why we wanted a bond that took away that option.”

“Are you sure that’s going to happen?” Draco asked. “I mean, the four Founders did not die all at once.”

Hermione sort of smiled. “They may have. It’s been a long time since then. Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff were in isolation at the time of their deaths. There’s ... well, not any evidence that Gryffindor and Slytherin didn’t die at the same time. Nobody knows when any of them died. Here.” She handed him a strange journal of sorts with white sheets of thin parchment and a metal spiral down the side. “My notes.”

Draco settled it on his knee. “Is this going to insult me if I try to read it?”

Hermione laughed. “No, but I can if it makes you feel better. What did I call you? A foul, loathsome, evil little cockroach.”

Draco snorted. “Please don’t punch me again.”

With a little smile, she said, “You want my hands on you, Draco. Just admit it.”

“Yes. All over. Really.”

Their eyes met and pure, magical lust flared blue from Hermione. Draco felt himself sway as it hit him, biting his lip against a moan. 

“Read, you prat.”

Draco blinked, trying to get rid of the feeling. He shifted himself in his jeans, catching her little smile. She was looking down at Gryffindor’s journal. Her hair was falling over her shoulder, and she moved it behind an ear, baring her slightly pink cheeks. It looked like she was breathing deeper than usual.

Smirking, he looked down at the journal. Notebook. Right. Muggle journal. A Muggle thing. A notebook. Ew.

With a sigh, he opened the flimsy blue cover and started reading Hermione’s notes.

_Aug 3 - I feel weak and unbalanced. It is taking a lot of effort to write this down. Ron and Harry have given up on writing their feelings. They are curled up together on the couch. Ron might be crying, but I am too focused on these words to do anything else. My fingers are shaking. My magic is shaking. It’s the only way I can describe it. Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea. But even as I think that and I look over at Ron and Harry, I know it was. I can feel them. We are not next to each other, but I can feel Ron’s heated skin and Harry’s happy smile._

_Aug 4 - Shite. We’ve been doing nothing but sleep and eat for days. Ravenous. Like a half-crazed bull kept too long in its pen. And Harry can’t keep control of his dick. But that makes it seem like that’s a new occurrence. Harry will always want an orgasm, magical bond or not. Ron is more than happy to oblige him, but afterwards, we just eat and sleep again. I don’t feel like things have settled. Not completely. When I look into our magicks, I can see how we’re together, twisting and spinning. I can feel Harry and Ron almost as well as I can feel myself. It’s amazing. Simply crazy._

_Aug 5 - Harry almost scared us to death today by summoning coats for us without his wand and ending up almost destroying our closet when all of our clothes flew out of it and into the room. Ron has never even managed a simple nonverbal spell, and now he can light a fire without thinking about it. I can just as easily conjure water and douse it. Harry is making plants and flowers grow in his room. It’s ... it’s a lot of fun, actually. It feels like it’s supposed to be too serious to be fun. We can do so many magical things that we were unable to do before. Every hour we practice another nonverbal spell. Everything has energy that we can manipulate. Everything. And that’s how we do it. Manipulate its energy. It is hard to stop using magic now. Between the three of us, we can make the best tea in all of England._

Draco snorted.

“What?” Hermione asked.

“The best tea in all of England, huh?”

Hermione laughed. “Yes. When Ron and Harry are done shagging, I’ll show you.”

“That won’t be anytime soon.”

“No, probably not, so you better keep reading.”

Draco smiled and went back to the notebook. Hermione had written all the nonverbal and wandless magic she was able to do, and all the magic she observed Ron and Harry doing. A little over a week into the journals, Hermione’s tone changed from hopeful to hopeless.

_I do not understand. I lay awake, between the two men that I love and I feel empty. This was supposed to fix something. This was supposed to remove the worry and fear of ever being alone. I mentioned it to the other two, just because it’s hard to hide things from them anyway. Harry had frowned at me, looking away. A good sign that he was feeling the same. Ron said I was crazy. I will ask them about it tomorrow. Since I cannot sleep, I am going to go into the other room and work on controlling this magic. It spins and twists inside me. And outside of me. Sometimes, things grow damp after I have walked by. And earlier I ended up soaking through the couch when I only sat upon it to be near Harry. I hope that Ron doesn’t randomly start burning things. I need to control it soon, so I can teach the other two before disaster strikes._

“Here,” Hermione said and handed him a notebook with a green cover. “This one is Harry’s. He didn’t really start writing in it until about a week after we bonded.”

Draco took it with interest and started reading. The first few entries were single lines or a paragraph. Nothing like the length of Hermione’s. But on the third page was this entry: _I cannot tell Ron or Hermione. I just can’t. Our bond is so new, so precious, so fulfilling. I cannot tell them that I feel like someone is missing from it. If we had needed a fourth person, the bond would not have worked._

There was an empty line, and then words in a different color ink: _Hermione is feeling the emptiness too. What would she say if she knew what I knew, if she knew that I knew who was supposed to be here?_

_I had a nightmare. Of vines trying to wrap around me. A silvery wind saved me._

_Another nightmare. This one of fire. Lots of fire. Like the_ Fiendfyre _. Again. Wind. Silver wind saved me. And Malfoy. Draco Malfoy. The wind saved us both because I didn’t have a broom this time. Everything in the Room of Requirement was burning. The wind. It swirled around us, keeping the fire away. This is the fourth dream I’ve had with Malfoy in it. What am I supposed to tell the other two? How can I tell them this? How is it even possible?_

_Keeping secrets has never been my strong suit. With both Hermione and Ron glaring at me while brushing away their worry, I had to come clean. Ron, as I thought, almost set the room on fire. He hates Draco with a passion. I mean, so do I. Although, I don’t much care anymore. It all makes no sense anymore and Draco had been absolved of his part in the War. Forgiveness, Hermione said, though she isn’t too keen on the idea either. I have dreams of Draco every night. Every single night. Not all of them are scary. But that almost makes them worse. I woke up almost crying from a dream of the two of us, just laying on a grassy hill with our hands clasped together and a soft summer breeze blowing over us._

_Once again, Hermione and Ron don’t believe me. They don’t trust me. They don’t understand. This bond was supposed to make us inseparable. This bond was supposed to show me how much the two of them care about me. All it has done is shown once again that the two of them belong together and I belong somewhere else. Jesus Christ. Jesus Fucking Christ. The more I think about it, the more I dwell on it, the more Draco Malfoy makes sense. I’ve tried to explain to Ron, but he just shuts down or yells when I mention it. Hermione at least sort of listens to me. She thinks it’s because I used his wand. I think it’s because I’ve always been drawn to him. Always. Since that very first day in Madame Malkins. Hell, I was an arrogant snot to him back them, just like he was to me, but he at least had attempted some form of friendship. What would have happened if I had let the Sorting Hat put me in Slytherin?_

“So what is this about Harry almost being Sorted into Slytherin?” Draco asked.

Hermione smiled over at him. “It’s really all your fault. Hagrid had saved him from his aunt and uncle, and the first thing you did was insult Hagrid. You were the second wizard he’d ever met and then on the train you went and insulted Ron. It was all rather childish since ... well, we were children. You’d been sorted into Slytherin almost right before him, and he begged the Sorting Hat not to put him there. The Sorting Hat told him over and over that he had the ambition for it, that he had the drive. But, well, tossed him into Gryffindor instead.”

“That’s crazy,” Draco said.

“So is an elemental bond. Crazy just follows Harry around.”

Almost as if that was a cue, food suddenly appeared on the desk.

“The castle loves him,” Hermione said. “Even while we were rebuilding, Harry would forget to eat and food would just appear. It is a good time for a break. We’ve been reading for hours already.”

Draco was startled to find out she was right. He finished reading Harry’s sparse journal entries (mostly about him and the wind) while they ate lunch. Hermione showed him only one page of Ron’s that said, “Draco Malfoy is a fucking arsehole and I don’t care what Harry said, I am not connecting myself to that snake.”

“How did you convince him?”

Hermione shook her head. “I didn’t. Harry did. They refuse to tell me what they talked about. It was only a couple weeks before term started. Harry had a burn on his hip that he refused to let me heal afterward. After that, Ron still refused to believe it, but in a less vocal way. And then he had his own dream. Again, he won’t tell us what happened. Maybe he’ll tell you. He just said the next day that he was willing to believe it if only for Harry’s sake.”

After lunch, Hermione asked, “Remember a few days ago at lunch, when you had those elemental feelings?”

Draco smiled. “Yes.”

“You said something, while you were mostly asleep.”

Draco thought about that and remembered that Hermione had been shocked and Harry had smiled widely at him. “What did I say?”

“Aer enim est fons vitae.”

Draco’s eyes went wide and he whispered, “Air is the fountain of life.”

Hermione smiled and pulled a small parchment from one of her journals. She handed it to him. He took it gingerly, the page was brittle, but it shimmered with the same preservation charm as that on Whetle’s ancient book.

The process of the bond.

“It’s what you’re supposed to say, to trigger the magic. Harry said it during the ritual, which is why we also think the bond worked, but there’s absolutely no way you would have even known this phrase existed without being part of the bond.”

Draco stared down at the parchment. The writing was again old and hard to decipher. It took a few minutes to switch his brain over to the older version of English mixed with Latin.

There were strict instructions on creating a complicated magic circle on the ground with a mixture of crushed trimonian berries, a certain type of heavy clay, and ashes from burnt trimonian berry leaves, and pure water at a certain temperature. Incantations had to be said at exactly the right time for the circle to close properly. Within the circle were four equidistant points, each one marked with a pewter goblet. The same mixture was added to a complicated bonding potion. At exactly the same moment, fresh blood had to be drawn from each participant and dripped into the goblets. Just five drops. In tandem. Half of the contents of each goblet had to be consumed exactly five minutes before the ritual at exactly the same time by the participants. 

Each elemental said a phrase in Latin. “Earth is the beginning of life. Fire is the fuel of life. Water is the basis of life. Air is the fountain of life.”

The four participants then were to be individually restrained right in the center of the circle and brought to orgasm, their fluids added to their goblets. The rest of the mixture of the potions was to be added to goblets and then each participant drank the mixture from each goblet.

The very last paragraph on the parchment was a dire warning of what happened to the participants if anything went wrong or if they attempted to do this with less than four people.

Draco’s head was spinning at the complicated requirements in the process.

“Hey, Draco,” Hermione whispered.

Draco jerked in surprise, his mind entranced by the complexity of the ritual he was reading. “Huh?”

Hermione bit her lip and muttered something that sounded like “Sod it.” She tossed the journal she had been reading aside and crawled over to him. Crawled. At first she looked a bit unsure and then her smile twisted into a smirk when Draco was unable to do anything but stare. The dressed drooped low, almost revealing the nipples of her pale breast.

“Put that aside, please,” she said. “I’m not sure it is going to survive what I have in mind right now even with the preservation charms.”

Swallowing roughly, Draco did so as Hermione climbed into his lap. Her hands went to his hair, pulling his head back and then she kissed him, deep and needy all at once.

“It’s amazing how attractive you are when you’re studying,” she whispered when she pulled away for a moment.

“I am always attractive,” Draco said.

She laughed and went back for a kiss. She slid her hands down his back and gripped the T-shirt. He lifted his arms and let her pull it over his head. The T-shirt hadn’t even landed to wherever she threw it before she was shoving him to the bed and attacking his neck and shoulders with her mouth.

Draco half chuckled and half moaned. It had always riled him up faster when a girl was eager. He hated taking time to more or less convince a girl. Guys were always much easier.

He also hated it when he couldn’t get his hands in a girl’s hair, so the first thing he did was grab the thick band holding Hermione’s hair up and tugged on it. It took a fair amount of concentration not to yank her hair out when Hermione decided to lick at his nipple. With a gasp, Draco managed to get the hair tie out and then tangled his hands through her hair and guided her back up to his lips.

He slowed them down with a heavy kiss, running his fingers through her hair and then down her neck.

She sighed and settled against him, bodies twisted to the side enough to stay pressed together and kiss. Draco kept one hand in her hair and slid the other down her body, over the soft material of her dress and down to where it had ridden up over her thigh.

“Are you going to ward the door and keep me all to yourself?” Draco murmured against her lips.

“Already did,” she returned.

Draco chuckled.

“Are you going to take my dress off?”

Draco bunched up the bottom of the dress and tugged it up. She lifted her arms just long enough for Draco finish lifting it high. His earlier observation was right. Hermione was not wearing a bra, and as he pulled the dress over her head, she took off her panties. He was not able to admire because as soon as she was naked, Hermione was kissing him again, hands pulling at his shoulders and legs wrapping around him.

Draco did not mind at all and let his hands do the admiring instead of his eyes. Her skin was almost as soft as the dress. It shivered under his touch.

She pushed his shoulder back to the bed and then climbed over him, straddling him. Hands on his chest, she twisted against his crotch with a low whimper. Draco gripped her hips, matching her move for move.

“Are you going to take my jeans off?” he asked.

Hermione bit her lower lip. “Sure I can just rub myself off like this.”

“And what about me?”

She smiled, slow and sexy. “I can definitely get you off just like this.” She pressed a bit harder, and Draco throbbed.

Damn witch was right.

But he wasn’t going to let her prove it. With a bit of a growl, he pushed her off him (and her subsequent laughter let him know that she knew that he knew that she was right). He sucked in his stomach and yanked on the buttons, releasing enough to push his jeans and pants down his legs. Hermione sat back up, helping him peel them off.

“Getting clothes off is step one.”

“What is step two?” Hermione asked.

“Depends on if you’re fucking Harry and Ron.”

“They do have a tendency to speed things up.”

“Are you open with them, tell them what you want and need?”

“Mostly the bond does that.”

Draco smirked. “Their loss, I guess. It’s really sexy to hear a girl talking about what she wants.”

Hermione’s cheeks flushed.

“I guess I’m not being fair to them,” Draco continued, twisting the nipple a bit harsher. “I mean, you are the only girl they’ve been with, and as Harry so eloquently pointed out before, I am a bit a slag. That just means I know things.”

“And how long do I have to lay here and listen to your self-praise before you actually do things?”

Draco laughed.

“So what will this be? A quick fuck or ... ” She trailed a hand down her stomach.

Draco watched, throat going tight and then had to cough before he managed to reply. And her smirk. Again. Merlin, she was sexy. “Well, I guess this is me reviewing what I learned before. It’s been ...” Draco stopped and had to think of the last time he’d been with a girl. Pansy probably. Sixth year, maybe. Sixth year was still a bit of a stressful blur. “... awhile since the last time I was with a bird and not a bloke.”

She smiled. “I am incredibly angry about that, you slag. The ... it’s strange how much anger flares inside me thinking of you with other people.”

“In the past,” Draco said and finally rolled over to curl around her. “So let me show you what I remember.”

He kept himself propped up next to her and leaned down for a light kiss. A light kiss that masked the movement of his arm so the caress to her stomach was a bit of a surprise. She breathed in through her nose deeply and then tangled her hands in his hair to deepen the kiss. He let her for a little while and then slowed it back down. His hand did not move from her stomach, sliding up almost to her breasts and then sliding down almost between her legs. Her breathing sped up, her tugs on his hair grew more insistent, and she spread her legs in invitation.

One that Draco did not take. Not completely. He did love to tease.

She grew frustrated, but her moans were mostly in pleasure, so he kept kissing her, kept touching her, until his hand was brushing over the short strands of hair between her legs. But still just brushing, a whisper of a touch down her inner thighs.

“Fuck you, Draco Malfoy,” she gasped. “Please.”

So he stopped teasing her with his hands and used his mouth instead, starting at her neck and moving south. Her hands finally left his hair and she started digging her fingers into his shoulder and arm, pushing him down.

A strong pulse of compulsion had him moving for a moment, to obey, and then he shook his head and glared up at her. She smiled, unrepentant.

“None of that, Miss Granger,” he said with a light smack to her bare hip.

Her eyes shut with a small sigh. “Please.”

“Soon.”

He went back to his light touches, along her stomach first and then down her thighs, fingertips grazing more sensitive skin. He finally allowed her to spread her legs and then moved his mouth lower. With fingers grazing inner thighs, he licked down her stomach. He strengthened his touch, gripping the shivering muscles and then teased more with his tongue, along the crease of leg and stomach, not going lower until her pleas were almost too loud and almost too desperate. With fingers tangled firmly in his hair, Hermione yanked and started cursing.

That was good.

Draco shifted down the bed, between her legs. She almost screamed, “Finally,” and spread her legs, lifting them and curling her hips up.

Draco laughed. “Patience, darling.”

She growled. Actually growled and then used her own fingers to play with herself, slide down and into her body that was already so wet.

Draco hummed in appreciation and watched as she rubbed her clit.

“You know, if I wanted to get myself off, I would have gone to Ron and Harry,” she said.

Draco chuckled, using his fingers to tease her inner thighs. “Patience, Granger. The girl is the one that knows her body the best. I call this research.”

She huffed at him, but kept playing, her eyes fluttering closed, her fingers pressing a bit firmer. She liked to tease herself, Draco could tell. She’d wait until her thigh muscles tightened and her body shifted and then she’d slow down, take her finger off her clit and slip into herself a few times.

“Slow and steady wins the race.”

She snored. “Fuck that. Come on. Please.”

Draco spread his fingers over her thighs and pushed, shifting forward. She moved her hand, sliding it over his neck and into his hair, leaving a wet trail behind. He moaned and followed her lead, followed her physical commands, and put his mouth to her.

There would be time to devour her later. There’d be time to fingerfuck her three deep and suck on her clit as she screamed. But later.

For now, he teased. He spread her open, fingers soft at the edge of pink skin and swirled his tongue just to under her clit. Her moan echoed through the room. He did it again, going higher to just flick over the over-sensitive spot. Her thighs quivered around his head and he felt her pulsing where his hands settled. Another lick, a bit firmer, and he followed it with a finger, sliding through wetness and then sinking in. She gasped, tightening up and Draco withdrew the finger, keeping just the tip teasing the clenching muscles. He shivered too because he couldn’t wait to sink into those muscles and feel the way she shuddered around his dick. He concentrated on her clit with his tongue and mouth, licking and then sucking. It was hard to stay patient, hard to be in control, hard with the way she was moaning and tugging at his hair and crying his name.

And hard. Shit, he was hard and he let himself rut against the bed for a little while, just to tease himself. He was not going to last long inside her. Not long enough for her to come from his dick. He had to get her to the edge. But he had to remember his moves too. Nothing special. Most girls got off from repetition and consistency, not fast changes or bursts of power.

Power. Magic.

Draco wondered ... he kept his finger buried inside her, not moving it. With his mouth on her clit, tongue just moving around, he called his magic. He was not sure how to explain it, but it was like he had a wand in his hand. He was aware of his magical core when he thought this way.

Energy, Hermione had said. It was just manipulating energy. And her muscles were indeed shaking from energy.

He felt the tingle on his finger, and she screamed.

Just screamed. Her entire body shook, back arching off the bed, and Draco winced as his hair was pulled. Her body shuddered and fell, her chest gasping.

“Again, again,” she demanded. “Draco fuck, Again. More.”

He had to pull away from her clit and from the sweet taste that made it easier to slip in two fingers. He did whatever he did again, less reluctantly, letting magic through him like he would with a wand.

And Hermione screamed again. Her reaction even more violent. She was panting, his name broken and then she was almost sobbing.

“Fuck me, fuck me ... one more ... wait ... just ... Shite, Draco. Shite. I need ...”

Draco twisted his fingers as he pulled them almost free and her body clenched down on them. He pushed them back in and opened his mouth to lick at her and lick her up. Everything was delicious and fresh and clean, like her water. Like her magic. Like her soul. He shoved a third finger into her before letting his magic free again.

And the bed curtain whipped in a cool wind. Their hair twisted in the silent storm. Draco found himself on his back and thought his own wind had put him there before Hermione was straddling his lap. Her hand was already slick with oil wrapping up and around him. He gasped, knees bending.

She huffed in frustration and then held him still and sank down on him. Faster than Draco had planned.

“Fuck. Sodding ... fuck,” Draco gasped and tried to get the girl to fucking stop for a moment. She didn’t, her hands on his chest, her hips rising and falling fast and her head tilted back. Draco watched her swallow, watched her breast heave with her deep gasps.

“Again. Magic again,” she said.

With hands on her hips, Draco pulled at his magic. This time, the wind came with rain, and Hermione cried out, body arched back away from her, wetness gushing from her in time to her orgasm, and Draco came, adding to the mess, adding the screams, adding to the elements that soaked them through and then warmed with the wind.

Hermione fell on top of him, and Draco had just enough mental fortitude to wrap his arms around her before he blacked out.


	9. A Better Week

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I super apologize, full bow, on my knees sort of apology, to all of you who are waiting for an update on this fic.
> 
> I swear I'm working on it (about 5K words into chapter 10), but REAL LIFE IS JUST CRAZY AND INSANE AND WON'T LEAVE ME ALONE.
> 
> This message is as of 11/8. Thank you for being patient.

**MONDAY**

_Dear Mother,_

_I do hope you are sitting down before you read this. If you aren’t, please sit. Please. You are going to start (if you haven’t already) hearing rumors about me. I am not sure what you have heard and what you haven’t heard, so let me tell you from my own quill._

_Apparently, Harry Potter has had a bit of an obsession with me for a few years. Since fifth year, strangely enough. The year that I made his life the most miserable. Taking only my looks into consideration, I am not really surprised. But even with all the nonsense and degrading and horrors I have caused, it seems that he’s fallen in love with me._

_He confessed on Friday, and sparing you the sordid details, well, I am in a burgeoning relationship of some sorts with him. He has more or less demanded that we do not hide this, that he has been hiding his feelings for long enough and what the sodding-fuck (his words not mine, dear Mother) did he off a madman for if he can’t live his life how he wants to._

_He is unfairly persuasive, Mother. He plans on something as grand as holding my hand today and a kiss or two in the Great Hall, if I let him (which I probably will, I am having a terrible time with my self-control this weekend). I thought I would warn you. I hope you do not hear about it without this warning._

_Please do not be upset. I know that you want me to be married and I understand that. But I also feel that the expectations of the past will not actually influence my future. Harry is amazing. He’s funny and witty and pretty smart for someone who has such low marks in school. His magic is intense, and he’s powerful and still so humble. It is almost ridiculous how much I like him, and how much he seems to just fit perfectly with me. Please accept this as something I want for myself. Love is too soon. I cannot declare it as such, but I am happy, Mother. I am honestly very happy._

Draco stared at the letter for a little longer and then added a few paragraphs about his plans in Slughorn’s classroom as well as his Herbology project. He wasn’t that great at Herbology, but it was very different to be excited about it now that he was connecting it to potions.

Grumbling from the bed had Draco moving in that direction.

“What time is it?” Harry asked, mostly muffled in the pillow.

Draco slipped back under the blanket and let Harry curl up against his chest. “Half six.”

“Too early.”

“Yeah, but I woke up and couldn’t go back to sleep.”

Harry continued grumbling something about snakes that needed to sleep for their own good.

“Week two,” Draco mused. “It feels like it’s been ten.”

Harry huffed, face still buried against his chest. “We should stay in bed. Remember last week when I said we needed to stay in bed?”

“We stayed in bed too late yesterday. Is all your homework done?”

“Yes, Hermione.”

Draco dug a finger into his side. “Shut up. I spent five years second to that witch, and I refuse to spend another one behind her.”

Harry lifted his head and smirked. “Weren’t you behind her yesterday? She does enjoy being on her hands and knees.”

“Shut up,” Draco mumbled and felt himself blushing. After they’d both woken and Hermione had removed the copious amounts of water (and come) from the bed, he had indeed been behind her while they made another mess that had to be cleaned up. “Come shower with me? Plenty of time for a blowjob this morning.”

“Too early. Wake me up when you’re done primping,” Harry said and buried his head into the pillow.

Draco smiled and pressed a kiss to his bare shoulder and a few down his back. 

He slipped out from the bed and headed to the bathroom where he showered. It was still early when he was done, and Harry looked so peaceful in his sleep. Draco dressed quietly, not wanting to wake Harry just yet. It wasn’t even close to being time for classes. With a last look at Harry’s skin and the way the faded morning sun fell across his back and brightened his hair, Draco left the room with his school things and the letter to his mother.

He was not surprised to find Hermione in the Common Room, dressed and ready for class. She was not alone though, so even though he wanted to give her a kiss, he settled for a smile and a touch on her arm. She smiled back and leaned into the touch a little.

“I’m going to owl this letter to my mother,” Draco said. “I’ll see you at breakfast.”

“Okay. Is Harry awake?”

“Not yet. Someone will have to go wake him.”

“I will in a few minutes.”

Draco winked. “Don’t do anything that I would do.”

Hermione laughed. “Cad.”

“Witch.”

Her laughter trailed after him.

\--- ---

Breakfast was just about over when one of the Manor’s owls dropped a letter almost in his juice. Draco managed to catch it.

“Well, at least it isn’t a Howler,” Ron said.

“That does not mean anything, Ron,” Draco said. “My mother is too dignified to send Howlers.” Draco took a deep breath and snapped the Malfoy seal.

_Draco Darling, I have learned a new phrase that is applicable to this situation:_

_You do you._

_Apparently it is a Muggle phrase. I am perhaps too old to use such things. I do remember when I was younger though--the shouting of the heart can never quiet the misgivings of the mind. If Harry Potter makes you happy, then by all means, my darling, keep him close and let yourself be happy. I hope this letter makes it to you in time for breakfast._

_You have all of my love and support._

Draco stared at the note for a long time and then handed it to Harry so he could read it.

“Well, I wasn’t expecting that,” Harry said, “but at least I can do this now.” He tossed the parchment to Hermione and then grabbed Draco by his head, hands sinking into his hair, and kissed him.

Sure enough, sound in the Great Hall faded. And Harry’s kiss grew deeper, his tongue in Draco’s mouth, his hand sliding down his chest and to his lap. Draco moaned.

“Mister Potter, Mister Malfoy,” Professor Mcgonagall said in the silence. “Such public displays are not allowed at Hogwarts.”

Harry pulled away with a little bit of a grin on his face. “Can’t help it, Professor. I mean, have you seen Draco?”

Everyone was staring at them. Everyone. Draco’s cheeks flushed a deeper pink.

“I should deduct some points, but in the name of House Unity, I feel your actions are excusable. Just this one time. Please attempt to set a good example, gentlemen.”

Harry smirked. “Yes, ma’am. Come on. Herbology is calling us.”

Draco felt flushed as he stood up and he was so glad he had closed his robes earlier. He was very aware of the looks and the glares and the whispers of love potions and curses. But he kept his head high and walked next to Harry for a moment, and then Harry took his hand. His smile was just for Draco. His laughter for everyone else.

“Merlin, this is fun,” Harry said in the hallway as people moved to let them by, most staring in pure awe.

Draco smiled. Maybe it was a bit more fun than it should be. He didn’t much care what everyone else thought. Not anymore.

They arrived at the greenhouses just as the seventh-year Slytherins did.

“You should probably glamour those hickys, Malfoy,” Stonewall said to him.

“You mean like Alastor did?” Draco said back, an eyebrow raised.

Stonewall narrowed his eyes a bit, and Alastor’s cheeks flushed.

“Shut up,” Alastor mumbled. “We didn’t ... just shut up.”

Draco looked between the two and realized that they hadn’t hooked up. Or they may had fucked and Alastor didn’t confess. Maybe the two of them needed to spend some time around that sodding, contagious Gryffindor courage.

With almost a show of possession, Stonewall grabbed Alastor’s arm and dragged them to the far table. Draco smirked and settled down next to Harry.

Harry held out his hand, palm up, fingers spread. Draco smiled and took his hand, entwining their fingers.

Professor Sprout entered the greenhouse with a flurry of robes and vines. “Today we will be prepping the soil, by hand,” she said. “You cannot use magic for this. It is important that you dig into the soil and move it around and get a feel for it. Find any foreign objects like rocks or roots. Many insects are good for the soil, so don’t get rid of those without asking me first.”

Harry’s hand tightened and Draco glanced at him. His eyes were a bit wide, his chest rising rapidly.

“Are you okay?” Draco whispered.

He shook his head. Draco shut his eyes and scooted closer to him. He could feel Harry vibrating. Just vibrating. Nerves. Fear. Something.

Sprout was reminding them of how to choose the way to prep their soil based on their first plants in their project.

“Shite,” Harry gasped.

And not very quietly.

Professor Sprout glared at him. “Mister Potter, is there a problem?”

“Yes, I ... think ... it’s ... bugger me.” Harry’s head hit the table and Draco touched his back in concern. He felt him shaking now, magically and physically.

And then Harry was falling backwards, away from the bench. He landed hard on his ass, and Draco shouted in surprise, moving to go to him. Harry wretched, expelling most of his breakfast onto the greenhouse floor, and Draco froze half in horror and half in disgust.

Professor Sprout was there a moment later, banishing the mess and hollering for Neville Longbottom to get Harry to the infirmary.

Longbottom entered through a side door, hurried to his side, and helped Harry to his feet. There were murmurs of concern around them, and someone muttered something about a curse from a snake. Draco ignored it.

Professor Sprout did not, spinning around to reprimand the seventh-year Hufflepuff and take away a few points.

With Harry’s face mostly obscured by Longbottom’s body, Draco almost missed the grin and the wink that Harry shot him.

“What the--”

“All right, settle down,” Professor Sprout said, quieting the class.

Confused, Draco sat down. Had Harry done that on purpose?

\---

Draco’s stomach started grumbling halfway through Herbology, which made no sense since he’d eaten way too much at breakfast. His entire meal schedule was off. He hoped it wasn’t because of this weird bond he had to the other three. All of Hermione’s notes had talked about being incredibly hungry afterward.

“Where’s Harry?” Hermione asked as soon as Draco sat down.

“Infirmary.”

“What?” she and Ron both said.

“He threw up at the beginning of Herbology,” Draco said and started eating quickly. Or at least, as quickly as he could while still remembering his table manners.

“Why?”

Draco shrugged. “Maybe something he ate? Maybe remembering Ron’s table manners?”

Ron snorted, almost spraying food. Draco lifted an eyebrow at him. Ron’s cheeks flushed and he almost snarled, and Draco smirked at him.

Hermione glared at them both. “Stop it, both of you.” She lowered her voice. “That’s impossible. We don’t get sick anymore. At all.”

Draco leaned back, a bite of potatoes halfway to his mouth. “The little prat did wink at me afterwards. Do you think he did it on purpose?”

“I can’t see why. Harry loves Herbology.”

“What were you doing in class today?”

Draco looked at his hands and then into his nails and made a face. “Digging in dirt, mostly. Prepping our soil for our projects.” He dug under a nail at something that looked like dirt. His hands would not be clean again until he got up to the dorms to wash them with his own potion.

Ron and Hermione exchanged a look.

“He definitely did it on purpose,” Hermione said.

“The last time I saw Harry put his hands right into some dirt, an entire rose garden exploded,” Ron added. “More than one variety of rose, too. It was pretty amazing.”

“I thought he had control of that,” Hermione said with a frown.

“Draco is making everything go wonky,” Ron said. “Not in a bad way, just in a ‘I hope I don’t burn down the school’ sort of way.”

“I would think that is a bad way,” Hermione said and crossed her arms.

“Harry will be fine,” Ron said and went back to eating. “He probably just took one of my brothers’ Puking Pastilles.”

“And he’s probably going to get Longbottom to do his work for him,” Draco said.

Ron snorted. “Nothing new there.”

\---

Harry did not show up to Transfiguration. The three of them made plans to go to the Infirmary after classes, but found Harry lounging on the couch in their common room with a bit of a smirk on his face.

“It’s not my fault,” he said immediately and looked at Draco pointedly. Most of the eighth-years were there, waiting for dinner, dropping their things off, so they couldn’t talk about this out in the open.

“It never is, mate,” Ron said and sat next to him. “Budge over.”

Harry didn’t and ended up plastered to his side, curled up against him. Ron huffed and shoved him over, but not before Draco caught a soft touch to his arm. Harry loved to cuddle, and sure enough, before Draco could walk past on the way to the stairs, Harry grabbed his arm and pulled him toward the couch.

Sighing, because really, there’s no way he could ever stop from obeying Harry at this point, Draco let his bag fall to the floor and he sat next to Harry and let him curl up into his lap.

“Ugh, Draco Malfoy cuddling,” Finnigan said.

“You’d rather we shag right here?” Harry asked.

“Yes,” Finnigan said, just as four other people said, “No.”

Harry laughed.

“Don’t worry, Finnigan,” Draco said. “I have homework to do, and as I have told Harry many times, I am not letting a Muggle-born beat me in marks again this year.”

Hermione laughed and headed up the stairs. “Keep him distracted, Harry. My brilliant plan is working.”

Draco laughed. “Your brilliant plan is to give me a steady stream of sex so you can be better than me?”

“Again. So I can be better than you again.” She winked at him and disappeared into her room.

“You’re already going to lose,” Harry said. “No point in resisting. Let’s go shag.”

Draco sighed. “Fine, fine. Wouldn’t want Hermione to be disappointed that her plan didn’t work.”

\---

**TUESDAY**

Draco had a hard time climbing out of bed on Tuesday morning and it only had a little bit to do with the insatiable Earth Wizard that wouldn’t leave his dick alone the night before. He was exhausted, sore, and a bit weak. He didn’t even want to get up to eat.

He barely protested when Hermione climbed into bed with the two of them. Draco was on his stomach, Harry propped up on an elbow next to him, running a hand over his back.

Hermione and Harry were talking, but Draco did not hear their words. Everything sounded muffled. Firm hands started at his feet and slid up his calves. Magical pressure traveled through his muscles and he relaxed into the metaphysical touch as it moved up his thighs and to his arse and lower back.

The massage continued, accompanied once again by Hermione’s magic. It felt really good, and a bit energizing. When warmth curled over him and whispered in his ear to sit up, he was mostly able to. Ron helped him, heated hands following Hermione’s along his skin. He easily leaned into Ron’s strong chest, head against his shoulder, and smiled as he opened his mouth to press wet kisses to the freckled skin.

Ron laughed and said, “Not now, beautiful. Got to get you up.”

Draco grumbled at him.

Hermione moved her magical massage to the front of him and he sighed, eyes closed. “Why am I so weak?” he whispered.

Something cool and sweet pressed against his lips, and he opened his eyes and then his mouth to accept the raspberry that Harry had in his fingers. Another berry followed and then a bit of thick, warm buttered toast.

“This is how we felt after the bond,” Ron said. “Just too weak to do anything but eat and fuck.”

“I’m too tired to fuck.”

Harry kept feeding him. When he had the energy, he moved, settling himself between Ron’s spread legs and leaning against his chest. Ron ran his warm hands up and down his chest, fingers straying to tweak at his nipples. Hermione scooted close, straddling his knees, and concentrated the massage up and down his thighs. And then his dick. She cupped his balls and stroked him, magic pulsing with him and ratcheting up his lust. Draco sighed and shut his eyes and enjoyed the sensations. Harry kissed him.

Held, comforted, supported.

Loved.

Draco’s chest tightened again with too many emotions. Nothing was clear, everything swimming, magic and smiles and kisses. Firm hands lifted him up and he sank down on Ron’s cock. Ron held his hands back and used his legs to spread Draco’s open. Hermione moved down the bed to lick at his cock and balls and tease the edge of his entrance where Ron had him stretched open.

Harry stayed at his mouth. Soft kisses, gentle bites, quiet whispers of adoration.

The only thing Draco could move were his hips, and he did, swirling them in small circles with Ron buried inside him. It was amazing. So unbelievable.

A cool touch of wind brushed over all of them, and Draco’s eyes snapped open. He only managed to focus on Harry’s smiling face and then he was pressing back against Ron, hips jerking up, and moaning as he pumped his release into Hermione’s mouth.

He sagged against Ron’s chest and did not protest when Ron settled him down to the bed a moment later. He curled on his side, a single hand on Ron’s hip. Hermione took his place on Ron’s dick. Draco floated. It was the only word he could use to describe it. He was aware of their sex, aware of their noises and touches, but he felt above it all, like he was no longer on his bed, but on a cloud.

When he became aware of things, he was not alone. Ron slept next to him. With a smile, he moved a little closer, pressing his face against Ron’s chest. Ron’s arm fell around him, pulling him even closer still. A fluttering crane hovered over his bed, and he smiled and reached for it. As soon as his fingers touched it, Hermione’s voice said, “Harry and I went to Ancient Runes. We will tell Professor Vector that the two of you must have caught what Harry had yesterday. Sleep until lunch. It will help.”

Draco did not like this feeling of weakness, but he also wasn’t going to complain too much if it meant skipping class just this once.

And if it meant lying next to warm, freckled skin.

“You okay, beautiful?” Ron whispered, his voice rough with sleep. He ran a fingertip over Draco’s neck and up to his lips.

Draco shut his eyes and tilted his head as the touch lingered. A sliding caress of warmth followed and Draco’s mouth opened in a silent plea.

Gripping his chin, Ron brought Draco’s face back around and tilted it up for a heavy kiss. Draco moaned and pulled at Ron’s shoulders, hooking a leg around his knees. Ron was still naked, and Draco realized a moment later that he was too.

Circe’s tits, Harry’s sleeping-naked habit was spreading.

Much to Draco’s frustration, Ron slowed the kiss down with longer presses of lips only softly and shortly broken with a swipe of his tongue. Sighing, Draco relaxed and let Ron lead. It was easy to do that, easy to submit, easy to follow.

“Bugger,” Ron whispered. “You make me want to fly.”

Draco pulled away and lifted an eyebrow. Ron’s pretty blue eyes were almost blazing, crackling like a raging bonfire.

“Think of a fire, when the wind blows. A soft wind makes the flames flare and a harsher one may blow it out. But air fuels fire. Earth, plants, I mean, may help start it, but it’s air that keeps it going. I just ... it’s hard to explain. Let me show you.” He pecked Draco’s lip and said, “Sit up.”

Draco frowned, but did as he was told, because ... well, ... Ron told him to. Part of him hated that he was so willing to obey a sodding Weasel, and his cheeks flushed as he sat up, sitting crosslegged, his knees against Ron’s thigh. Ron pushed up with one elbow, still horizontal, his long body on display. Draco reached to touch his stomach and Ron shook his head.

“Wait.” He held out his other hand, fingers pulled together, and a tiny flicker of a flame danced at his fingertips. “Now, touch me.”

Draco swallowed and reached out. His fingers had barely touched Ron’s hip and the flame shot up, almost five centimeters. It startled Draco enough for him to yelp.

Ron chuckled. “I do nothing else, and just your touch does this. It’s ... it’s ... it’s like my magic just explodes within me and makes me four times as strong.”

Biting his lip, Draco leaned over the small flame and blew on it. The fire grew. And then it was gone, and Ron’s hot hand was at his side, their mouths together, and Draco moaned into the kiss. His head was swimming again, his magic flailing. A soft wind blew through the bed curtains.

Ron reluctantly pulled back and said, “You and Hermione soaked everything on Sunday. Not a horrible thing, easy to dry, but starting a fire like that, if we lose control ...”

Draco chuckled. “Yeah, that’d be bad.” He settled back over Ron’s body, trailing his hands up and down Ron’s chest. He looked for patterns and found something that almost resembled Orion in the sky.

“I don’t dare have sex with you without the other two here to temper me,” he said. “I want to. Don’t ever think I don’t. You’re beautiful. My beautiful.”

Draco flushed even darker, ducking his head. “Merlin. Shut up.”

Chuckling, Ron cupped his cheeks for another kiss. “Beautiful.” And then another kiss. “Beautiful.” And another that extended for longer than Draco could breathe and think and worry. His skin was vibrating. Or maybe it was his magic.

“You’re still a horrible little git,” Ron whispered. “I just ... it’s like there are two Draco’s in my mind. The little shite from before and this beautiful siren.”

Draco nodded. “Yeah. I ... you were an awkward slimey little wanker, and now you’re ... gods. Strong, brilliant, passionate, gorgeous, just ...” Draco leaned in for a short and heavy kiss.

With a smirk, Ron pulled Draco flush against him, hands running up and down Draco’s back. It was an attempt to calm them both down. Draco took heavy breaths, following Ron’s lead. He knew how to control the magicks, and Draco did not. So he only followed and obeyed.

“Can I ask you something?” Draco asked, his head tucked under Ron’s chin, face pressed against his chest. He traced a series of bigger freckles over Ron’s bicep. They sort of looked like Ursa Major. He followed the bottom of the ladle over a bit to see if Ursa Minor was there also. Ron’s muscles flexed though and his finger bumped over the muscle and down between his arm and body.

“What?” Ron asked, sliding his hands down to Draco’s ass to tease the curves.

“Just ... Hermione said you had a dream about what made you give me a chance. She said you won’t tell them what it is.”

Ron froze for a moment. Sighing, he moved his hands up Draco’s back, a soft touch, one hand tangling in his hair. He didn’t pull, just let it rest there on the curve of Draco’s head.

Draco shut his eyes. He practically sank into Ron’s skin.

“Harry died,” Ron whispered. “It ... it was horrible. He died because I ... I ... It was so vivid. Hermione had gotten injured. From a strong wind. I was yelling at Harry, cursing your name, because the wind was yours. But Harry told me over and over that the wind was out of control because you weren’t there to guide it. I had to let you in, and I refused.”

Draco lifted his head, shifting to see into Ron’s eyes. But they were shut. At least at first. His chest rose beneath Draco. When his eyes opened, they were dark blue, darker than Draco had ever seen them. And blurring with tears.

Draco moved again, straddling Ron’s stomach and wiping at his eyes with his fingers. He gripped Draco’s wrists to stop him and then smiled and said, “A rock hit him and killed him, and then he died, and I was supposed to die too, that’s what the bond said, but I didn’t. He died. Hermione died and I was all alone. I cried in my dream, screaming and thrashing. Harry said I was crying in real life too and neither of them could wake me. I saw you, in the dream, and tried to run after you and you just were out of reach the entire time, ignoring me. I ... was screaming at you to forgive me, and then I fell and fell and ... there was no wind. Just nothing and ...”

Draco kissed him, letting Ron roll them both over, so he was hovering over Draco instead. Tears fell to Draco’s face and he used his hands and legs to reassure Ron that he was there. Between them.

A bit of wind fluttered around the bed, and Ron gasped, this time burying his face in Draco’s neck. Draco held him tightly.

Ron cried himself back into an uneasy sleep. Draco huffed and wanted to move him to get under the blanket, but didn’t want to disturb him either. Well, the other three could do things wandlessly. He’d never been very good at anything more than a small shield. He shut his eyes and concentrated, remembering how he had pulled his magic to his fingertips when he was with Hermione. He felt the same sizzle, the same energy and said, “ _Accio_ Harry’s blanket,” and the dark blue comforter zoomed over to them and Draco smiled widely as it settled over them. He snuggled in close to Ron’s heat, and went back to sleep.

\---

A couple hours later, he was able to get up and shower and go down to the Great Hall for lunch. He ate way more than he should have and still felt hungry when the plates were cleared. He was constantly aware of Hermione’s analysing look all day long. It annoyed him at first, but since he spent the day mostly exhausted, he figured that he’d keep his mouth shut and let her run her diagnostics.

Defence Against the Dark Arts, where all they were doing again was throwing spells at each other, was even more tiring than the week before. Professor Weasley had them first throwing _Expelliarmus_ at each other again, and then _Impedimenta_. This time though, he taught them a quick shield charm, one that wouldn’t necessarily stop the spell, but it would keep them on their feet and allow them to keep a grip on their wand if they were expecting it. Draco was paired up with Neville Longbottom, and he was sorely outmatched. No matter how many times he tried, Draco never got an _Impedimenta_ to land. Longbottom’s shields were just too fast.

And his own were sometimes just a bit too slow. He found himself facedown in piles of pillows more than once.

“That was surprisingly therapeutic,” Longbottom said after class and clapped Draco on the shoulder. “The best part is that I don’t have to apologize for knocking you on your arse.”

Draco chuckled. “I do. For before. I was a prat, and I’m sorry.”

Longbottom nodded. “You were a prat.”

“Still kind of one,” Harry said with a grin.

Draco did not do something as childish as rolling his eyes. He stuck out his tongue, instead.

Laughing, Harry moved in front of them and squeezed between Ron and Hermione, putting an arm around Ron’s waist and holding out his hand for Hermione to take.

Dinner was a struggle again. Draco just had no energy. He trudged up to bed and fell into it without getting undressed.

\---

**WEDNESDAY**

Draco felt slightly better the next morning. He was able to get up and go down for breakfast where he ate almost three plates of food. He worried about his homework. He’d missed two days of studying either sleeping, eating, or fucking. But when he was in Potions, opening his bag, he found his finished essays. He glanced at Hermione, who smiled and shrugged.

“It’s our fault, so I thought I’d help.”

“Thanks.”

Alastor and Stonewall sat at the table next to them. They had only enough time to exchange greetings before Slughorn walked into the room.

“Good afternoon,” he said. Their schedule from the last class appeared on the board. “There is a small correction in the schedule for this class.” A section of the writing flared in bright white. 

Hermione snorted loudly.

The _Ignus Protegro_ potion was now scheduled to begin in December instead of March.

Draco smiled, keeping his head down and scratching out the correction on the paper from the last class.

He became aware of the absolute stillness around him, and he glanced up. Slughorn was standing next to his desk.

“I will not allow such blatant student-preference under normal circumstances,” Slughorn started.

“Says the man who started a Slug Club,” Hermione grumbled.

A few of the other students buried laughter in their hands.

“Twenty points from Gryffindor.”

There were snorts of disgust at this, but Draco could tell they were directed at Slughorn and not at Hermione.

Slughorn did not even bother to look at her, keeping his eyes on Draco. “But the Headmistress seems to have a soft spot for those that should be in Azkaban.”

Draco’s eyes narrowed, but he kept his mouth shut.

Slughorn’s lips twitched, like he wanted to smile because he’d gotten to Draco.

Fuck him.

Draco forcefully relaxed.

“Mister Malfoy will be given his own workbench.” He motioned to a small table against the wall. It was a mess of student cauldrons, parchments, inkwells, and leftover potions ingredients. 

Severus never would have allowed such a blatant mess in his Potions classroom. Draco could not remember the table being there last week and decided that Slughorn had done it on purpose. He had a feeling that if he wanted to use that table, then he’d have to clean off that table.

“You will not have a partner for any of the potions that the Headmistress is allowing you to brew. It is bad enough that they are allowing such evil--” He paused dramatically, implying that he did not mean the potions were evil. “--in this school. You will be closely monitored, since I am sure that you are planning to use them for yourself.”

Hermione huffed, but Draco settled a hand on her leg and squeezed.

“You will also remember that you have the potions for this class to brew as well. I will not stand for you doing your own thing and prancing around this school like the rules are above you. Not anymore.”

“Will I be given time outside of class to work on the potions for the Defence teacher?” Draco asked.

“I must allow that. Monday or Tuesday evenings are the only times I have available. I refuse to allow you in here without supervision.”

Draco swallowed. More work. Blimey. He was going to go crazy. “Thank you, sir.” Draco bit back the vile taste in his mouth.

Slughorn inhaled deeply and spun away from him. “Please turn in your essays. We will begin the Revive potion now.”

“I really hate that man,” Hermione muttered.

So did Draco, and he had to see him again ... and then again. This final school year was going to be a long one.

\---

**THURSDAY**

“Don’t be mad,” Harry said as soon as Draco woke up on Thursday morning.

He winced against the light, trying to clear the sleep fog out of his brain.

“Mad?” Draco said. “I’m not mad just surprised that you are awake before me.”

Harry smiled and curled up against him for a long kiss. “It’s for an important reason. How are you feeling today? Tired? Sore?”

Draco thought about that and nodded. “Yes, but it’s not as bad.”

“Good, now before breakfast. Don’t be mad.”

Draco yawned and stretched. Harry’s hands slid up his chest and tangled around his neck and he was kissed against, lowered to the bed.

“So distracting,” Harry murmured into the kiss. “Fuck.”

Draco smiled and shifted his feet to get closer to Harry, but his foot hit something at the end of the bed and he pulled away from the kiss and looked, or tried to look over Harry’s shoulder. “What is that?”

“Don’t be mad.” Harry bit his lower lip.

Draco huffed and smiled. “I make no promises. What have you done?”

“Nothing. Just ... I got you something.” Harry sat up and twisted around.

Draco saw the wooden handle first and he sat up with a shout. “Harry James Potter!”

Harry pulled the new broom over his lap. “Don’t be mad. It’s a present.”

It wasn’t just a present. It was a Zodiac Sagittarius Flaming Arrow Edition racing broom, the hottest, most-sought-after broom on the market. The Appleby Arrows commissioned the brooms, and not to be left behind, the Wisbourne Wasps bought a full set two months later.

“Merlin,” Draco breathed and reached to touch the dark handle. He felt the magic buzzing from it before he even touched it.

It was walnut, one of the most unforgiving woods. Even just a slight miscalculation in production would negate all of the broom’s aerodynamics. The twigs tapered to almost a perfect point. The foot steps were a sparkling silver. He ran his hand over the perfectly arched handle.

“It’s a present,” Harry repeated. “Hermione called it an apology. The three of us pooled some money to get it. It’s not your fault that we dragged you into our bond.”

“You don’t need to apologize for that,” Draco said.

“We feel we do.”

“I can’t ... I can’t accept this,” Draco said, feeling his heart tear in two. It was the most beautiful broom he’d ever laid eyes on.

“You can and you will because I refuse to let you return it.”

Draco settled the broom carefully next to him and then grabbed Harry by the shoulders and pounced.

They were late for breakfast.

\---

The amount of attention the new broom got in the Great Hall was staggering. Everyone was begging to have a go on it.

Draco laughed and promised them they all could, but not until Saturday because of classes.

“Wow,” Finnigan said. “If I suck on your dick, too, Harry, will you buy me one?”

Harry slugged him.

Even Professor McGonagall stared in awe at the sleek broom and its perfectly clipped twigs. “You’ll let me try it?” she asked.

Draco smiled and nodded. “Of course, Professor.”

Her eyes were glimmering with happiness and probably memories of her own prowess on the broom.

The arrival of mail and a sudden pile of owls convening around Draco put a stop to the admiration.

“Well, I never,” he heard Professor McGonagall say.

In a flurry of magic, most of the owls and their letters were herded out of the windows. Draco did not know where they had gone. There were still enough flying around the eighth-year table to draw concern. Most of the students were hovering over their breakfast plates to keep them away and watch out for feathers and other droppings.

“Bugger,” Draco said when an insistent owl tried to peck his fingers.

It took a few more minutes for him, Ron and Hermione to take parchments and send the owls on their way. Harry was too busy laughing to help.

“I am sorry, Mister Malfoy,” Professor McGonagall said. “I did not think to change the wards of owls after your little display with Mister Potter on Monday. There are charms that only allow through Harry’s mail from people he knows. I will extend that to you. I Banished those owls not carrying good tidings.”

The pile of parchments almost towered over Draco’s head.

He caught sight of a Daily Prophet in the pile. Part of the headline read: “Potion or True Love?” There was a faded picture of Harry moving.

Draco sighed. “Well, bugger me.”

“Okay,” Harry said. “The Prophet needs a better picture anyway.”

“Shut it, Scarhead.”

Harry laughed and leaned against him, arm going around his waist. His lips touched Draco’s neck for a moment.

Hermione helped Draco gather up the letters, inconspicuously shrinking most of them to fit in a single bag.

Harry and Ron had fun reading them before they could be hidden away.

“This one wants to be the middle of your boy-love sandwich,” Ron said with a smirk. “She put a picture in too. Wow. Sexy.”

“Ronald Bilius,” Hermione growled.

“This one is telling you that she can turn you straight,” Harry said.

Finnigan absolutely laughed next to him; Draco had not noticed that he’d pulled a few of the parchments to him as well.

“What?” Draco demanded.

“Nothing, just some tosser saying she wouldn’t mind being the breeding animal for the Malfoy name while you shag the Boy Who Lived. Blimey, you are just ...”

Draco snatched the letter out of his hand.

“This is all my fault,” Harry said, though he did not sound particularly sorry. “You always made fun of me for my adoring public. This is what it feels like.”

Draco made a face. “Well, Potter. I guess I could apologize for my previous behavior, but I don’t really want to right now.”

Harry chuckled. “The broom was a good idea.”

Draco smiled and realized that if it wasn’t for the broom, this all would have made him much angrier. He hoped his mother was not receiving too much hate mail, though after the war, the Ministry had allowed them to put up wards against such things. Pulling Harry close, Draco kissed his cheek. “Yes, the broom was a good idea.”

In Madam Hooch’s flying class, the first-years all gathered around the broom to admire it.

“Well, Mister Malfoy,” Madam Hooch said. “Get up in the air. Show it off. I want you to just fly around while I explain what you’re doing on the broom.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Draco said eagerly and Madam Hooch sent him a saucy wink.

The broom was heaven in the air. It followed his instincts, turned when he demanded it, climbed high in the air, and supported him when he dove and swooped toward the goal hoops. Draco had not flown for more than a year. Sixth year was the last time. Even then he had found no joy in it, too worried about his task and failing. He had failed. In so many ways. He let the wind whip at his tears and he felt a different wind, a different touch. One of comfort, acceptance. And laughter, lust. Forgiveness.

Draco pulled up and stopped in the air, hovering while he let the emotions flow around him. And the wind. That hadn’t been there before. It whipped through his hair and over his robes. It was warmth and comfort all at once, and it took all of his self discipline to not just toss himself into it and plummet to the ground.

He knew that he would not fall. The wind would carry him.

Madame Hooch called his name.

With a smile, Draco dove, twisting and spinning and looping up and around until the ground rushed up and he just managed to pull up, his toes brushing the tips of the grass and he braked, slowing enough to jump from the broom and run a few steps before spinning with a shout.

He fell to the ground. And was tackled by a bunch of first-years.

“Mister Malfoy! Wow!”

“That was so cool!”

“You are amazing!”

“So awesome!”

“What a flyer!”

Madame Hooch called them all to order and held out a hand for Draco. “Very nice flying, Mister Malfoy. I wonder if you’d mind if I gave you some information about some upcoming Quidditch tryouts?”

Draco’s eyes went wide. “But ... but ...”

“When you can fly like that, no one cares about your past. Look at Flanders from the Pride of Portree. His entire family is in Azkaban. No one cares. I can’t get Harry Potter to agree to it, but I’d hate for one of the two best flyers in my tenure not make it to the professional level.”

“You should do it, Mister Malfoy,” Alice Corner said and tugged on his arm. “You’re the best.”

The other children nodded and said their agreements.

Draco smiled. “Maybe. I want to be a Potions Master.”

“Let’s get on our brooms,” Madame Hooch said. “We’re going to work on turning today.”

Draco followed the children back to their brooms. He waited until all of them had successfully commanded their brooms into the air and then flew along next to them. He noted with a bit of satisfaction that Alice Corner was having no problems at all with her broom, and the boy that had been so confident last week wasn’t able to turn.

After helping him and having to steady him to get him on his way again, Draco found Alice hovering next to him.

“I switched brooms with him during the confusion,” Alice whispered. “Now, he has the temperamental one.”

Draco laughed and pulled her close for a side hug. “Well done, you Slytherin in disguise.”

While some of the other students would have taken that as an insult, it made Alice beam.

\---

**FRIDAY**

The first thing Draco noticed in the Potions ingredients class on Friday was that more junk had been piled upon his private workbench. He scowled, and Hermione sighed in exasperation. 

“Let me say something--”

“No,” Draco muttered. “It’s fine. I’ll put a repelling charm or something on it later.”

They sat at their same table. Hermione’s foot wrapped around his leg. There was a quick inhale near them, and she sighed and moved her leg.

Draco smiled at her. They were being too closely monitored for any type of affection. He wondered how long that little slip would take to reach Ron’s ears. 

Alastor sat across from him. He looked tired, but his smile was genuine. Draco had a pretty good idea why when he caught site of the edge of a purple mark under his collar. Draco reached over to touch and Alastor batted his hand away, blushing.

“I love being right,” Draco said.

Alastor half-heartedly snarled at him and quickly cast a glamour at himself.

Class itself wasn’t horrible. Draco kept his mouth shut and his quill moving. After class, he took a deep breath and asked, “Professor Slughorn, may I stay during lunch to clean off the workbench you have allowed me to use?”

Slughorn actually snarled at him and and said, “No, you may not.”

Draco wasn’t really surprised and Hermione grumbled a little under her breath. Without saying anything else, Draco left, pulling Hermione with him.

“If he tries to blame you for the mess, I am not going to keep my mouth shut.”

Draco smiled and nodded. “Fine.”

\---

Draco arrived back in the dungeons early enough to get started on the workbench. He took out his wand and cast a Sorting spell at everything. To his surprise, it only took one spell. Cauldrons stacked themselves. Spare ingredients sorted themselves into usable and trash and then into their types. Used parchments and broken quills clattered into one of the larger cauldrons. Inkwells and quills lined up along one edge.

The flare of magic within him was staggering. Hermione had mentioned how emotions made their magic stronger. He was upset with Slughorn, and that fueled the spell. Keeping that irritation, he casually tossed a repelling and a shield charm. He felt it and saw it lock into place with a burst of silver.

The tittering of third years reminded him that he had an audience.

“That was ... pretty awesome, Mister Malfoy,” one of the Ravenclaws said.

To Draco’s knowledge, that was the first time a Ravenclaw hadn’t been a sarcastic, condescending arsehole to him.

He smiled. “Thank you, Rodgers.”

The boy looked surprised that he’d been remembered.

A moment later, Slughorn was there, and he glared at Draco for a moment, and then started teaching. The third years scrambled for parchments.

Slughorn spent the first few minutes talking about the Shrinking Potion. And Draco spent those few minutes reminiscing from his own third year. He’d been a right twat to Harry on that day, making him do all of his work because he faked an injury. Thinking on it now, he really did get away with a lot of shite. Severus let him be, unsurprisingly, but it was the other teachers that pursed their lips at him but said nothing. Money went a long way in life, and his father had made a substantial donation to Hogwarts every year.

The students clambered around, pulling Draco from his little trip down memory lane. Some went to gather ingredients while their partners set up their cauldrons.

Draco stayed on his stool for a little while, arms crossed and with the same scowl on his face as before. He was not internally seething like last week. Just internally planning. He waited until those students nearest him were attempting to cut up daisy roots. Slughorn was on the other side of the room, so Draco stood up, immediately drawing the professor’s attention, but Draco was telling one of the Ravenclaws that he had to have more uniform pieces or the quality of the potion would be ruined. He showed him how to judge the cuts more carefully.

When he stood up, a Gryffindor girl raised her hand and asked for help.

“You’re really good, Mister Malfoy,” the girl said after his short demonstration.

Making sure his voice was louder than normal, Draco shook his head. “I’m still learning, just like you guys are. That’s why I’m here, to learn from a Potions master. Professor Slughorn is very good. I’m here because I’m trying to be as great as he is.”

The girl smiled, and he heard a few muffled chuckles from his statement. Apparently, the way Slughorn had been treating him was common knowledge, even among the lower levels.

He helped more students and made sure with each table to praise Slughorn in anyway that he could. By the end of the lesson, a few of the Ravenclaw boys, including Rodgers, had caught on, and were also flowering Slughorn with praise. With each compliment, Slughorn’s ire grew until he was snapping at the students. But he could not protest without making a scene and without revealing that he had a bias against a student. He could not take points from Slytherin for obviously helping without there being protest from the students. He did not admit that Draco’s assistance was helpful, but more students turned in perfectly bright green Shrinking Potions than Draco remembered when he was a third year, and both Ravenclaw and Gryffindor were awarded points for their outstanding work.

Smirking, Draco sauntered out of the classroom and found Alastor and Stonewall waiting for him. They both had their brooms.

Alastor lifted an eyebrow. “Good teaching?”

“The best,” Draco answered.

“We were going to go do some laps around the pitch before dinner and we were wondering if you’d come and give us some pointers.”

“And you want to try the Sagittarius Arrow,” Draco said.

Alastor grinned. “Yes, that too.”

“Sure, let me run upstairs and grab my broom. Harry may demand to come with me.”

Stonewall made a face, but at a firm look from Alastor, he kept his mouth shut.

“It’s pretty annoying how we’re ready to do as we’re told just to keep our lover happy,isn’t it? Draco said and winked at Stonewall.

His face stayed blank like the good Slytherin he was, but his cheeks did flush a bit. Alastor was almost bright red.

Whistling, Draco led the way out of the dungeons and into the main hall. He said he’d be at the pitch in ten minutes and then went up to the Astronomy tower.

The next thing he remembered was something foggy. Dull thick fog. Blurry vision. And pain. Somewhere. He was not sure. The voices above him were muffled.

“We have to take him to the Infirmary,” Ron said. “This is beyond us, Hermione.”

Tears too. Somewhere. He shut his eyes and dove into the fog and tried to follow his wind to wherever it had been taken.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm working on the last chapter, or what I think will be the last chapter, who knows? I just have a general idea how I want this to end and it might take two more chapters with the way Draco has been so stubborn. It might be another week or so until I can update again. Or my fingers might go crazy and I'll have it all typed up in 2 days. We'll see. Thanks for sticking with me! <3


	10. A Grave Man

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Real life has really been demanding this month. Sorry for the delay in posting. I hope to have this fic done by Thanksgiving (Nov 23). Thank you for being patient! <3 <3 <3

Draco woke up in the Infirmary. The quiet gave it away. Even in the dorms at the top of a tower or in the bowels of the dungeon there was noise.

But here ... everything stood still. No dust mites floated through sunbeams. No air flowed through windows. Though as soon as he thought that, a small breeze blew against his skin.

A small pulse of light flared around him. A magic detector. Draco attempted to stop the breeze, but the light pulsed a bit brighter.

Madam Pomfrey shuffled over with a small smile and a vial of potion. “Drink this, Mister Malfoy.”

Draco did, recognizing a strengthening potion. But it tasted a bit different and magic twisted through him with a quiet rumble. Like thunder.

Tilting her head, Madam Pomfrey watched his reaction. And she nodded once. “Just as I thought. Are you hungry, dear?”

He wanted to ask what _Just as I thought_ meant, but his stomach grumbled in reply.

With a smile, she moved away. “Eat everything I give you, no complaints.”

“Yes, ma’am.” And he did, with relish. He felt like an empty cauldron even after the steak and the beans and vegetables that seemed to replenish almost as fast as he could eat.

As soon as the plate vanished, the Infirmary door opened and the Golden Trio walked in. They all looked like they hadn’t slept well, even Harry who always looked a bit disheveled. The T-shirt he wore was wrinkled more, his jeans hanging almost off his thin frame. His long hair was pulled back in mostly a ponytail with bits of hair flying everywhere. Hermione was wearing sweatpants, which was really odd for her, until Draco noted that they were a pair of Harry’s. Her hair was a wild mess about her head. Ron, as always looked pretty fit in his T-shirt and jeans, but his face was tried, mouth turned in a frown. All three of them were sporting bags under their eyes.

Harry was first there, laying almost in the bed with him. Hermione stayed standing, arms crossed, looking at the ground. Ron sat on the other side of his bed and took Draco’s hand. It was warm.

And breathtaking. Draco felt himself flush and he squeezed, turning into Harry a bit to hide the blush on his cheeks. He was not supposed to be in love with Ronald Weasley, but based on the ache in his chest and the way his emotions flared at the simple touch meant that he was on his way there. Damn that sodding redhead.

“We’re sorry,” Harry whispered. “We have no idea ... no idea what’s wrong with you. We were all tired like this too, but we got stronger. You’re getting weaker.”

“What day is it?” Draco asked.

“Just Saturday, about three, now. Harry found you passed out on the floor of your room yesterday before dinner. Alastor said you were supposed to meet him for flying. We brought you here this morning when you didn’t get better.”

Draco opened his mouth to tell them he was okay, and then a sharp pain flared through his chest. He gasped, eyes open wide. It hurt more than the _Sectumsempra_ curse. It hurt more than Buckbeak biting his arm. It hurt almost as much as the _Cruciatus_.

He heard someone tell him to breathe. The pain pulsed for a long minute before fading to a heavy ache. Draco fell back to the bed, trying to stabilize his breathing. Trying to see through foggy vision.

Harry frowned at him and touched his face. “We’re so sorry. We didn’t mean ...” He bit his lower lip as Madam Pomfrey drew closer, her wand dancing about in a complicated twist. A blue series of spells twisted through Draco and then Harry.

“Why do you need to look at Harry?” Hermione asked.

“Quiet, child,” Madam Pomfrey said. “Diagnostics. Magical ones. Harry and Draco are connected in some way and I’m just testing a theory.”

A few minutes later, the door to the Infirmary opened again, and McGonagall almost stomped through it. She stopped when she saw them and sighed, hands on her hips.

“Oh Merlin,” McGonagall said. “You three. Now what?”

The three of them did not meet her eyes, looking at each other.

Madam Pomfrey came over to her and whispered in her ear. Her eyes went wide. “You’re certain?”

Madam Pomfrey nodded.

Her eyes softened a bit and she said, “Okay, explain.”

Draco snorted from the bed. “That’s easy. They’re idiots. Sodding Gryffindor imbeciles.”

“Mister Malfoy, your language please.” McGonagall waved a hand and an armchair appeared out of nowhere. “I have a feeling that I should sit down for this.”

Hermione glanced at Harry and Ron and then sighed, “We bonded. Over the summer,” she started.

“Well, congratulations. I am sure Molly is happy about that, or she would be, but she doesn’t know, does she?”

“No,” Hermione said. “And well, it’s because it is not just Ron and me. The three of us, we bonded. Together.”

“That is slightly more complicated, but that doesn’t explain why Draco Malfoy is in the infirmary with his magical core being slowly sucked away.”

Harry gasped. “What?”

McGonagall nodded. “Yes. His magical core is unstable. It is weakening. The only way that can happen is if someone powerful is taking it.”

Harry glanced at Draco, eyes full of fear. “Fucking bugger--”

“Language, Mister Potter.”

Hermione shut her eyes and took a very deep breath. “The bond ... it’s very ... strong. We ... we ...”

“We can’t dance around this, ‘Mione,” Ron said. “Not with Draco in danger.”

Hermione inhaled deeply again and nodded.

Ron held out his hand. A flicker of flame danced on his palm. “We’re Elemental Wizards. We bonded with the _Ventus Aqua Terra Ignis_ Elemental bond.”

McGonagall stared at him in shock, her mouth open and her eyes wide.

It was quiet for a long moment before she said, “The Founders Bond? Are you three insane?”

Draco laughed. “That was my reaction.”

“How did you even manage that? At your age? How did you do this without having a Ventus? Oh really, Miss Granger, it is obvious which one of you is which now that I know. And how is it that Mister Malfoy is lying here with his magic depleting?”

Hermione launched into her explanation of finding the journals and going to Turkey and how Harry had been certain that Draco was meant to be their Ventus.

“This is so dangerous,” Professor McGonagall said. “How could you be so stupid to attempt this with only three people when you were aware of the risks?”

Hermione stared back at her defiantly. “Because we’re in love. We always have been. And dying while attempting was better than not being together forever.”

“So how did Draco get dragged into this?”

Draco tried to laugh through another shot of pain. “Dragged. Shagged, whatever.”

“We didn’t mean to really tell him,” Harry said. “We were going to befriend him and then ... well, it happened sooner than we expected, and now ... we ... he’s feeling the effects of the bond, but he isn’t in it, and now ... shite. Am I doing this to him?” He glanced at Madam Pomfrey.

She frowned and nodded. “The connection between your magical signatures was strong after the war.”

“How though?” Hermione said. “I don’t understand why he’s being affected so much.”

“That’s because you didn’t think before you decided to attempt a Founder’s Bond with only three people,” McGonagall said. “You are so lucky that all four of you are not dead.”

“Without them, I’d rather be,” Hermione said. “We were willing to risk it.”

“And risk Draco?”

“We didn’t know--”

“And if you had asked someone with a bit more knowledge on magical theories and bondings, they would have been able to tell you!” she almost shouted.

Outside of the final battle, it was the first time Draco had heard Professor McGonagall raise her voice in such a shrill shout.

“Wait,” Draco said. “Professor, do you know how I became part of their bond?”

“You aren’t part of it,” she said and shook her head. “If you were, you would not be lying there with your magic being siphoned away. But I do know how Mister Potter is draining away your magic. You owe him a life debt.”

“What?” Harry said. “He doesn’t!”

“You saved his life in the Room of Requirement.”

“And then I spoke at his trial--”

“That was not enough,” she continued. “That wasn’t magical. That wasn’t a matter of life or death. You may have considered it payback and considered the two of you even, but the magicks obviously did not. Mister Malfoy was not going to die if he went to Azkaban. But now, the life debt is calling in.”

“By taking his magic?”

“Yes. Without you in this bond, Mister Malfoy, all three of them would have died in the middle of the ritual. The life debt connected your magics, and now the life debt is keeping Mister Potter alive.”

Silence fell.

Draco felt empty again. But not hungry. Just ... just empty.

“Other ... other people owe him life debts,” Ron said quietly. His grip on Draco’s hand was almost breaking bones.

“Yes,” she nodded. “And when you made the bond, it reached for the one who was most connected to Mister Potter. Using his wand, using curses against each other through school, being the same age as him, near magical powers, all of those reasons would have been why Mister Malfoy was first in line.”

“But how ...” Draco started. “I mean, they completed the bond in August. I was fine at the Manor.”

Professor McGonagall smiled at him. “Maybe, but if I remember correctly, Mister Malfoy, you were not going to come back to Hogwarts, and then you changed your mind.”

Draco opened his mouth and then nodded. “In August. I did ... I ... I felt like I was missing something important. I talked with Mother and she said it was direction in my life. Without ... I am not a Malfoy, not in the same way, and she ... I ... I wasn’t going to come back.”

“Mister Potter was pulling at you, even then. The bond needs to be close to its holders.”

It was quiet again and Draco bit his lip against more pain. “Shite, buggering fuck, this hurts.”

He breathed deeply, and Harry kissed his neck. That helped a little bit while the pain weaved through him.

“So what can we do?” Hermione whispered, her voice small.

“First, Mister Potter and Mister Malfoy should not be separated. Think of your magic as a string,” she said. “It’s being pulled, so when you’re away from each other, there’s more of your magic outside of yourself. And second ...” She took a deep breath. “I’ll need to contact Diamber Whetle.”

Hermione’s mouth dropped open. “She ... she ... she’s alive?”

“Yes, she is alive. She created the Elemental Bond,” McGonagall said. “She and her bondmates are happily living in Paris, I believe.”

“But ... that’s ... that’s impossible. She’s over two thousand years old.”

“The Elemental Bond calls upon the earth itself to keep the bondmates alive and together. You have unwittingly given yourself a form of immortality. If you do not die, then you will live almost forever.”

“Bugger,” Draco gasped. “How ...”

McGonagall shook her head. “The Elemental Bond has only been successfully completed three times. And now four. The Founders ...” She took a deep breath. “Gryffindor killed them all. Out of heartbreak, out of grief, after Slytherin left. He poisoned himself. You can be killed and you can kill yourself. But you will age slowly, and you do not get sick anymore.”

Hermione wavered on her feet and Ron shot up from the bed to catch her before her knees collapsed.

“Oh, god ... what ... what have we done?” she gasped.

Ron whispered something to her and Harry curled up closer to Draco, face buried in his neck.

McGonagall stood up and the chair disappeared. “The four of you will remain here, in a private room, until this is fixed. You will not attend classes. You will not leave this Infirmary. The closer the four of you are together, the less likely it is that Mister Malfoy’s magical signature will be drained as quickly. Try not to do any magic. Each time you do, you pull a bit more from Mister Malfoy. And the four of you, do not, under any circumstances have any sort of intercourse, oral or otherwise, until I contact Mrs. Whetle.”

“Professor?” Harry said just before she walked out the door.

She stopped and turned.

“You said this was only done four times. Diamber Whetle, the Founders, us ... when was the fourth?”

She smiled and glanced at Madam Pomfrey. “Never you mind that, Mister Potter.” She spun out of the room. Madame Pomfrey glanced at them with a smile on her face before going into her office.

“Do you think she--?” Ron started. His eyes went wide. “Blimey.”

“But with who?” Hermione whispered. “Pomfrey?”

“Sprout, maybe?” Harry said. “She is really good with plants.”

Ron made a face. “I now have a good way to keep my prick under control. Thanks for that visual, mate.”

Harry laughed.

Draco tried, but he just felt so tired.

Harry’s smile fell at Draco’s soft moan and he slipped into the bed with him, head on his chest and sighed. “I’m so sorry.”

Draco swallowed. “The broom was a great idea.”

The three of them laughed, and then silence fell and Draco stared up at the ceiling for a long time, contemplating ... this. Whatever this was. He was mostly immortal. Or he would be if Harry didn’t kill him first. Not immortal. He could still be killed. Someone could still see him on the street and exact revenge. Someone could poison him. Or he could do it himself. Like Gryffindor did. But he was not tied so closely to his bondmates, at least not yet. Would he? Would he learn to love all three of them?

If he was already recognizing feelings for Ron, then the answer was yes. A Malfoy, in love with a Weasley? There were so many of his ancestors turning in their graves.

\---

When Draco woke up, Harry was still in bed with him. On top of him, head on his chest, legs twisted in the blanket. Hermione and Ron were curled up on the next bed. He wasn’t sure if they were asleep or not.

It was still, quiet, relaxing. Or it would be relaxing if he hadn’t remembered that the Chosen One was sucking out his magical core.

Draco snorted and Harry lifted his head. “What?”

“Nothing,” Draco said and did not stop their lips from touching.

“Madam Pomfrey said you were going to be hungry when you woke up.”

“I seem to always be hungry these days.”

Harry smiled and pushed himself up and off the bed. He headed for Pomfrey’s office.

“All right, beautiful?” Ron asked.

Draco felt the flush on his cheeks and he nodded. “Good as can be expected.”

Ron smiled.

“It’s been really hard the last few hours to stop using magic,” Hermione said. “Really hard. We’ve been taking our abilities for granted, and just a couple hours ago, we made tea without even realizing it, and then Madam Pomfrey was ... she has threatened us with magical inhibitors if we can’t control ourselves. We’re so sorry. This is all my fault.”

“Not all your fault, love,” Ron said and hooked his hand around her neck and kissed her cheek.

Hermione pursed her lips and kept her eyes on Draco. Draco stared a bit longer and looked away. He wasn’t quite ready to grant forgiveness. They’d dragged him into an immortality that he did not want.

“I wonder if Voldemort knew about this bond,” Ron said.

Draco flinched. “What?”

Ron shrugged. “A form of immortality. Why didn’t he try it?”

“He’d have to share power,” Harry said immediately. “There’s no way that Tom Riddle would have ever shared his throne.”

“That is very true,” Draco said. “My father told me once that he feared for his life because Death Eaters sometimes turned to him for guidance when they were unclear of the Dark Lord’s intentions.”

“I doubt Voldemort knew about it,” Hermione said.

“Heir of Slytherin though,” Harry said. “He had to have known something so important about Slytherin. The man built the Chamber of Secrets for crying out loud.”

“Wait? What?”

Harry took a deep breath. “You don’t know about the Chamber of Secrets?”

“I mean I know about it, of course, what Hogwarts student doesn’t? But who built it? The Dark Lord?”

Harry exchanged a look with the other three. In that moment of silence, Madam Pomfrey bustled in with food for all four of them.

Harry waited until Draco had started eating, and then he said, “Well, I guess now is as good a time as any to tell you about stuff.”

“Like what?” Draco asked, between bites.

 

“Well, everything.”

He started with before he knew he was a wizard, living with the Dursleys, and then Hagrid, and then first year with the complications of Snape and Quirrell, and then second year, the Chamber of Secrets, and sneaking into the Slytherin dorms.

Draco laughed. “Merlin’s balls, Potter! I was wondering what was wrong with those two. I just thought they were being stupid or ate one of those Weasley candies!”

He continued into third year, and Hermione explained why she’d punched him, about Harry hearing his mother’s screams when the Dementors came near. Draco huffed, and apologized with a squeeze to his hand. Harry smiled at him, like he didn’t need to actually say the words. He probably didn’t. He did anyway.

It took all three of them to give details about fourth year and the Tri-Wizard Tournament. But only at the first task, Draco felt exhausted again.

“Sleep,” Harry said. “We’re here for the foreseeable future.” Harry pattered around him, tucking him in, kissing his cheek.

Draco was too tired to be angry about it, and he smiled when warm lips pressed against his for a moment. And this time, instead of Harry curling up in the bed with him, it was Ron.

“I’m going to get a house-elf to bring us our books so we can keep up with our classes,” Hermione said.

Draco felt Ron snort, and he buried his face against Ron’s neck, secure in the strong arms wrapped around him, and he slept to the sounds of the three of them bickering about studies.

“Well, we still need our N.E.W.T.s,” was the last thing Draco heard Hermione say.

\---

Draco woke up well into the night. He had been moved, and sitting up, he noted they were in a different room. It was round, with two beds on either side of a wide window seat. The darkness beyond the windows was dotted with bright stars. In the middle of the room sat a long desk covered in their school books. Two armchairs were set up around a small coffee table. There were shelves and armoires built into the walls. A single door led to a bathroom. As with everything in the Infirmary, the blankets, hangings, beddings and furniture were all white. But Draco did not see another door as an exit.

A single lamp was lit on the desk, revealing Ron hunched over a chessboard. The pieces were spread out like in the middle of a game, and Ron was rolling a bishop around his fingers, across his knuckles and over the back of his hand in an intricate display.

Both Hermione and Harry were asleep in the other bed.

Draco sat up and stretched, and Ron smiled over at him. “All right, Ferret?”

Draco smiled. “I think so. What time is it?”

“Two in the morning. You’ve been sleeping all day. Madam Pomfrey went to bed hours ago, but she said that you could call on the house-elves for food at any time.”

“I am a little hungry,” Draco said, like it was something abnormal.

And he was stiff. He twisted, arms bent and about chest level, and then leaned over the edge of the bed. He held the stretch a bit longer and then got out of the bed. He really felt stiff, trying to stand, so he stayed bent over and touched his toes, controlling his breathing.

A water-infused massage from Hermione sounded good just about then.

Draco moved to a more open area of the room and stood still for a moment, eyes shut, calming himself down, breathing deep. The pain in his chest had lessened considerably. When he felt relatively steady, he started stretching again, going through a few yoga poses. He heard Ron speaking with a house-elf, and then the smell of chicken and potatoes hit his nose, and he gave up on the stretching and went to the desk.

Ron chuckled at him when he sat eagerly and started eating almost too fast.

He ignored the touch of fingers on his neck because he had to. If he didn’t, he and Ron would completely break Professor McGonagall’s order not to have sex.

When he was finally full (the plate kept refilling again), he leaned back and pushed the plate away. It disappeared.

“Are you tired again?” Ron asked, careful to whisper.

Draco shook his head. “No. I’ve slept for almost two days.”

“What about the pain?”

Draco shut his eyes. “There’s still a dull ache.” He touched his chest. “But it hasn’t flared yet, so that’s good.”

“Yeah. I’m sure Hermione would make you study since you’re awake, but we can play chess for a little while.”

Draco smiled at him and said, “Sounds like a good idea to me.”

The board was Ron’s, so the black pieces were incredibly stubborn about following Draco’s directions. It got to the point that he had to pick them up and plop them where he wanted. When he almost beat Ron that first game, the pieces grudgingly admitted that he played well and started to listen to him through the second and third game.

“I love playing against you,” Ron said in the middle of their fourth. “You actually think like a strategist, and you are actually competition.”

“Such flattery, Weasel.” Draco had his fingers on a stubborn bishop when Ron reached over and brushed a fingertip over his lips.

Draco snapped his head up, even as he blushed.

“Except in bed,” Ron said and a slow smirk. “But you don’t mind letting me win in bed, do you, beautiful?”

Draco flushed a bit darker and jerked his face away from Ron’s fingers. Lust flashed through him, a hard twist of emotions, and he bit his lip. He did not moan out loud. He was too well-bred for that, thank you very much. But his pyjama bottoms were suddenly too tight. With a huff, he went back to the game and swiped Ron’s rook with the stubborn bishop.

“Bugger,” Ron muttered. “I was hoping I could distract you from that move.”

Draco smirked at him. “Nice try, Weasel. Go.”

Draco still lost that game. But it was close. One day soon, he’d beat Ron. Maybe not soon. Maybe in a hundred years.

It was so disconcerting to think about that.

Afterwards, he and Ron climbed back into bed to rest. Ron wasn’t sure if he’d sleep again, but curled up with his warmth, Draco had no problems at all relaxing for a little while.

\---

Draco was weak and groggy again later on in the morning. But he got up and sat at the table to eat, and then Harry helped him with a shower.

“You should keep up on your schoolwork, Draco,” Hermione said when he sat back down at the chessboard.

Draco snorted. “Why? If you lot are draining away my magic and turning me into a Squib, then school doesn’t really matter.”

Hermione frowned. “We’re trying to figure that out.”

“And what if you can’t add me to your bond, then what? I’m your useless little servant until my magical core runs dry and then I die, and you all die. So well done.”

“It isn’t ... our ... we didn’t know,” Hermione started.

“We don’t want you to die,” Harry said, lips against his neck. “We don’t. We love you.”

Draco pushed him away and stared at him with narrowed eyes. He spared a glance at the other two. “You don’t love me, Potter. The bond does.”

“Maybe at first, but--”

“Please shut up,” Draco said. “Just ... don’t talk about the bond, okay?”

Harry frowned and then nodded. “We’re just as scared as you are, Dray.”

“Shut up.”

“Emotions a little wild?” Professor McGonagall said from the door.

They all jumped in surprise.

She smiled. “Understandable. Please get presentable. Diamber Whetle and her three bondmates just arrived at the castle. I made an announcement at breakfast that we received a death threat for the four of you and that you’ve been removed from the school for your protection and for the protection of the students. I told all the teachers that the Aurors will be working on tracing spells for the threat, and you’ll be allowed to return when the threat is gone. You will remain here until we can figure out how to keep Mister Malfoy, and in turn, you three, from dying.”

Draco glanced down at the chessboard and sighed. He really did not want to die. Maybe a few months ago ... after his father’s death, but now ...

He pushed away from the table and headed to the wardrobe. His head went light and the world tilted, and he fell into Ron.

“I’ve got you, mate,” Ron said against the top of his head. “We’ve all got you.”

Draco swallowed a lump in his throat and tried to push Ron away. He moved, but not far, just far enough that Draco was able to get his clothes and start dressing. His hands fumbled on the tie at his neck and Hermione huffed, moving over to help his fingers that would not work.

“Go sit down, please,” she said. “I cannot give you a magical boost right now.”

Draco sighed and let Hermione hug him, arms around his waist, and then Ron hugged them both. He did not say it out loud, but even without magic, their presence was soothing and uplifting.

Hermione lifted her head, and Draco frowned at her tears. “I am sorry. Please. I am sorry.”

Draco shut his eyes and nodded. “I know. I’m going to be bloody angry for a while though.”

“You have every right.”

“Not too long,” Harry said, joining their circle by trying to squeeze between Hermione and Draco.

“Just long enough for makeup sex,” Ron said.

The others chuckled and then hugged tightly.

“Ah, young love,” a voice said near the door, causing all four to jump in surprise again.

“Delusional love,” one of the others muttered.

“Do be quiet, Henri.”

Four people walked into the room, followed by Professor McGonagall and Madam Pomfrey. Two women and two men. All four looked rather old, and if this really was Diamber Whetle, they were over two thousand years old.

Draco swallowed roughly.

They were dressed in fashionable robes, red and deep purple for the two women and a green and vibrant blue for the two men. The first one that had spoken wore the red robe. Her graying hair was pulled up into a bun, much like Professor McGonagall’s. The other woman’s hair was black and left long down her back. Both men had brown hair, and one was much taller than the other.

“Diamber,” Professor McGonagall said. “These are the four miscreants I told you about.”

The woman in red smiled and said, “Hello, fellow Elemental Wizards. I heard you may have cocked things up a bit.”

“We ...” Hermione took a deep breath. “I didn’t know ...”

She waved her hand at Hermione. “Neither did I, child. Neither did I. Introductions, then. I am Diamber Whetle, Fire Witch.” She held up a hand and fire burned at her fingertips. “Henri is our Aqua, Sophia our Ventus, and Julian our Terra.”

“I can’t ...” Hermione looked pale, mouth opening and closing.

Draco led and stepped forward. “I’m Draco Malfoy.”

“A wretched family,” Julian muttered.

Diamber shushed him harshly.

“It’s all right,” Draco said. “I’m used to that sentiment. I’m trying to be better. This is the Golden Trio.”

“Draco,” Harry hissed.

Draco smiled. “Harry Potter, Hermione Granger and Ronald Weasley.”

“Yes,” Henri said. “We have heard much about the strong wizard Harry and the brightest witch of this time, Miss Granger.” He glanced at Professor McGonagall who actually rolled her eyes. “You’ve given Minerva quite a bit of an ulcer the last few years.”

Draco found himself under four intense scrutiny. Green eyes, blue eyes, wavering dark, grey eyes, and almost black, so brown. Their eye color matched their powers. Draco glanced at Harry who did have green eyes, but Hermione’s were brown and Ron’s were blue. Maybe that didn’t matter. Maybe it did. Ron’s eyes had gone dark and fiery when they were alone the other day.

“You are not connected,” Diamber noted.

Draco nodded. “Yep. That’s me. I’m the one these buggers have dragged into this bond.”

Sophia tilted her head at him. “Ventus. Wind runs through you. It is not just because of that.”

“What?”

She smiled. “Wind. You are comfortable on a broom?”

Draco nodded. “It’s my favorite thing, besides potions.”

“And potions work because of the reaction the ingredients have with the air,” Sophia continued. “It is always an ingredient that potion masters forget about. Magic is of the earth, children. I know you do not learn a lot of theory while you’re learning to control yourselves. Have you ever wondered where magic comes from? The earth has energy, and that energy is released as magic. Earth is made of land, wind, air, fire. Essentially, all wizards are elemental wizards.”

“This bond,” Henri continued, a slight French accent in his words, “strengthens the wizards’ connection to the earth. But there is a balance in all things. One wizard cannot strengthen that wizard without three others. There would be too much power. And so the bond ties four together.”

“It ties your magical signatures together,” Diamber explained. “Much of which you already figured out. But without Young Draco actually being part of the bond, when you lot pull at his magical signature, he cannot pull at yours in return to remain whole.”

“Can we fix this?” Ron asked.

“We can try,” she said. “Or well, you four can try.”

“How?” Hermione asked.

“Do the ritual again,” Henri said.

“Not the entire thing,” Sophia added.

“There is a specific moment, a specific time when your magical signatures are connected,” Diamber said. “You need to replicate that moment in the bond. I do not believe you will need to do the entire thing.”

“When is that moment?” Harry asked.

“Drinking the potion mixed with all your essences, your blood, your pleasure, your love.”

“Isn’t there a simple bonding spell that can tie them together?” Professor McGonagall asked.

“No,” Diamber said. “This is anything but simple. So far, what we have discussed is only theory. This has never been done before.”

“I would be worried about the wild magicks escaping without the circle,” Sophia said.

“But will it work?” Julian asked. “The bond is already in place. This could destroy them.”

“We were prepared for that already,” Hermione said, tilting her head up in defiance. “We were ready for it to fail. Dying is better than not being together.”

“Says you!” Draco shouted. “I am not ready to die!”

“You will,” Madame Pomfrey said. “They will slowly drain your magic away and a wizard without his magic is dead, and then the three of them will follow.”

“The entire ritual is going to need to be done again,” Julian said. “There is no way out of it. The actual exact moment of their magicks being tied together is not know. It is the entire ritual that does it. You cannot attempt to thwart it. The safest way is to do it all again.”

Diamber lowered her head and nodded. “Where did you do the first ritual?”

 

“Grimmauld place,” Harry answered.

“We need to have everything be the exact same as the first time. The same goblets. The same trimonion berry bush. The same spot as the first magic circle. Complicating those things will make the revision of the bond less likely to work.”

“It will be a week before you can do it. I need to brew the potion for you to use,” Sophia said.

“This is insane,” Draco muttered. “You are all crazy.”

“It needs to be done,” Hermione said.

Draco glared at her. “I’m so blaming you for this, Granger.”

“Draco, come on,” Harry said. “It isn’t--”

“It is!” Draco shouted. “All three of you ... just ... fucking hell.”

“Can we have a moment?” Ron asked their audience.

McGonagall and Diamber exchanged a look and nodded.

“It is always good to talk out your disagreements,” Sophia said. “Remember, if this works, you are going to be disagreeing with each other for a very long time.” She smiled.

Draco shut his eyes and listened as they all left.

“I don’t want to die,” Draco said in the heavy silence.

“Neither do we,” Ron said.

Warm fingers brushed over his cheek. “It’s death either way,” Draco whispered. “I have no choice.”

Someone sort of sobbed.

“It won’t be horrible,” Ron whispered. “It really won’t.”

“What? Being tied to you three?”

“Yes. It ... please, it isn’t a death sentence.”

Draco thought over the last two weeks, being welcomed, being wanted, being loved. No, it wouldn’t be horrible. He just wasn’t ready for it yet.

He finally opened his eyes, and was surprised that it was Ron’s face closest to him and not Harry’s. Ron cupped his cheek and leaned down to press a kiss to his lips. Magic flared between them for a moment, and Draco sighed, arms wrapping around Ron’s shoulders.

“Fine, but I want something out of this,” Draco said.

“More than an awesome broom?” Harry asked.

“More than a lifelong bond,” Hermione said with a snort.

“Yes, more than the broom, and I did not ask for that,” Draco said with a glare at Hermione.

“What do you want, beautiful?” Ron whispered, drawing Draco’s attention back to him with a touch to his cheek and a kiss to his lips.

“Grow your hair back out,” Draco demanded and tried to pull on it.

Ron laughed in surprise. “That’s all?”

“For now. I’ll have a lifetime to demand things of you.”

Ron nodded. “Deal. I’ll grow my hair out.”

\---

Grimmauld place still permeated with dark magic in some places. Draco had been there only a few times when he was younger, but he never could forget the house-elf heads on the walls or that horrible portrait behind the curtain.

Within a moment of stepping into the front receiving parlour, the four Elemental Wizards waved their hands and cleaned everything within the room.

“Wow,” Ron said. “I never thought to do that, that we’d be able to clean it up that fast.”

“It’s mostly Sophia,” Henri said. “She is our wind, our cleanser, our center. I have no idea how you managed to survive without one.”

“They’re draining his magic,” Julian pointed out with a snort. “That’s how.”

“We must start the ritual tonight at midnight,” Diamber said. “Do you have a house-elf?”

“Kreacher,” Harry said, and the old elf popped into existence.

The old elf quivered immediately, head bowed low to the ground in front of Sophia. His mutterings were completely muffled, but somewhere along the words was Princess.

“Princess?” Hermione said.

“In another life,” Sophia said and winked at them. “Dearest Kreacher--”

Ron covered his sudden cough with his hand and Draco did not bother to hide his smile.

“--We are staying here for a few nights. Please make sure there is a room presentable for the four of us together, and it is imperative that no one comes into this house who is not already here for the next week. Do you understand?”

“Yes, your highness. Kreacher will clean everything. Kreacher will obey everything.”

“What time will afternoon tea be served?”

“At whatever time your highness wishes.”

Sophia nodded in approval. “Four will be just fine.”

“Yes, your excellency. Kreacher will begin preparations for your stay now, if I have your permissions.”

“You may go.”

Kreacher popped out of the room.

“You four should rest, try to sleep if you can,” Diamber said. “And eat. We will make sure everything is set up for you, but we cannot be present during the ritual. You all do understand that this has never been done before, and you all might die, correct?”

Draco glanced at the other three and was not reassured by their grave looks.

“Yes, we understand that,” Hermione said.

Draco snorted.

With a grim huff, Harry turned around and led the way through Grimmauld place and to an upper bedroom. It was obviously Harry’s room, with Chudley Cannons posters on the wall and clothes and shoes all over the place.

He fell face first to the bed and moaned. “God, this is horrible.”

“I really wish we could take our minds off of it for a bit,” Ron said. “I’m so fucking horny.”

“You always are,” Hermione mumbled and cleaned off Harry’s desk before sitting down on the chair.

Draco joined Harry on the bed. “You better not kill me this time, Potter.”

Harry snorted and then curled up with him, his hand sliding under Draco’s T-shirt. He traced the scars beneath his fingertips.

Draco did not say anything and only tried to control his breathing. The last week had been so hard. He hadn’t been able to do anything more than sleep and eat. Hermione tried to get him to study, but what was the point if they were all going to die?

McGonagall had allowed him to write a letter to his mother, but he did not explain the situation. He focused only on the story the Headmistress had crafted. He assured his mother that he was safe, but it wasn’t really fair that he might not get to see her again. He knew that Ron and Hermione battled the same thing with their families.

It wasn’t really fair that he no longer had a choice. It wasn’t fair that he wasn’t going to get to fall in love before being forced into a bond with the other three. He tried not to think of Salazar Slytherin, who removed himself from the bond. Why had he done that? Just because they disagreed about what students to allow into Hogwarts? Draco doubted that. There had to be more to it. He wondered if Diamber and her bondmates knew.

Would he do the same thing? In a few years, would the novelty of being wanted and loved wear off and he’d try to find a way to distance himself from them?

Or would the three of them realize they didn’t need him after all? Would they cut him out of the bond? Would he do what Gryffindor did and kill them all out of grief?

Draco tightened his hold on Harry. They both moved when Ron joined them on the bed, and a few moments later, Hermione found her way on top of them, her fingers running through Harry’s messy hair, and her lips touching the firm muscle of Ron’s shoulder.


	11. Bondage

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am sorry for the delay in updating this. Holidays were crazy, and then Jonghyun from SHINee ... I just ... yeah. Took a bit of a writing break. But here is chapter 11, and I have one more chapter planned after this.
> 
> Thanks for being patient! <3

Draco could not sleep. He lay in Harry’s uncomfortable lumpy bed with substandard linens and stared at the wispy starry canopy above them. Hermione had mostly just cried herself to sleep, silent even in her tears. Before falling asleep, Harry had kissed them all, randomly, over and over again, hands and mouth belaying his nerves by shaking.

Based on the staggered breathing next to him, Ron was not asleep either.

Draco sighed and shifted closer to him and away from Harry and Hermione. Ron did not say anything, but lifted his arm and let Draco curl up against him, arm one curled against his side and the other across his stomach. Seeking warmth, Draco slid his hand under Ron’s T-shirt.

After a few minutes, Ron whispered, “There was a lot of talk before, about how Hermione balances me, and how Harry did not have that balance, remember?”

Draco hummed.

“This though.” Ron squeezed his shoulder. “It’s ... it’s different. I said before you fuel me, make me stronger, and Hermione might be able to counter that, but I like this feeling more. I don’t feel like I have to hold myself back with you, and I don’t feel like you’d ever accept anything but all of me, and that is refreshing. Sometimes with Hermione and Harry, I feel like I’m walking on through a dragon’s egg nest.”

Draco cleared his throat.

“The severity of all of this is daunting,” Ron continued. “I’m not sure how to mentally deal with this idea of immortality. As wizards, we were going to live a long time anyway, but I don’t think I want to live for two thousand years.”

“Maybe ...” Draco sighed. “I guess maybe we could sign a magically binding pact where we decide to end it sooner.”

“Maybe.”

“Maybe we should discuss that after this ritual, because if something goes wrong, we’re all going to die anyway.”

Ron took a deep breath. “Hermione is really, really sorry. She had no idea.”

“I know,” Draco said. “I’ll forgive her if this doesn’t kill me.”

“I guess now is as good a time as any to tell you that out of everyone that owes Harry a life debt, I’m glad the magicks chose you.”

Draco snorted.

“I’m serious. I actually think that even Filch owes him one.”

Draco buried his laughter against Ron’s shoulder. “I guess I’m glad, too. I mean ... I don’t know. You lot don’t owe me anything, especially not forgiveness. I guess I’m thankful the magicks chose me, too. It just proves that in different circumstances, we might have been friends in school.”

“Well, maybe. Circumstances or not, you would have been in Slytherin no matter what, and there’s no way I am anything but a Gryffindor.”

“Rivals, then. Not enemies.”

“Maybe. The important thing is that we’re friends now.”

Draco smiled and pulled himself a bit more on top of Ron, hand on his chin and turning his face for a kiss. “Lovers.”

“Merlin,” Ron breathed and continued the kiss.

Draco groaned and flung his leg over Ron’s thighs. He tried not to hump him and failed. Their kiss deepened, and one of Ron’s hands was in his hair, pulling his mouth into place, and the other was on his ass, practically egging him on.

It had been more than a week since his last orgasm, and Draco was spiraling toward pleasure way faster than he thought possible.

And then other hands yanked him away from Ron and they both moaned in disappointment.

Harry chuckled. “Horny bastards. Wait.”

Draco turned his head to Harry and kissed him instead. Harry moaned and did not stop Draco from rolling them over, and Harry had his hands in Draco’s hair and legs wrapped around him in a moment.

Hermione sighed. “I guess I’ll be the one to bring up McGonagall and Professor Sprout naked and--”

Harry and Draco both yanked away and made a face.

Ron laughed at them, but propped up on an elbow and ran his hand down Draco’s side. “So effective.”

“I really think that Madam Hooch is in there too,” Hermione said. “McGonagall is definitely fire. Madam Pomfrey is water, Madam Hooch is air, Sprout is obviously earth.”

“Makes sense,” Harry said.

“What doesn’t make sense is why Slytherin left the Founders Bond,” Draco said. “We all know that he had a disagreement with the others about accepting students at Hogwarts, but that doesn’t seem like a big enough reason to just up and sever a bond and throw Gryffindor into a bad enough depression to kill them all.”

Hermione frowned. “I wonder if Mrs. Whetle knows.”

“She probably does. The Founders made the bond after them.”

“I’m getting hungry,” Draco said. “Is it okay to eat so soon before the bond?”

“For you, I’d say yes,” Hermione said. “You need all the strength you can get right now.”

“Should we go down to the kitchen?” Harry asked. “Or do you want me to call for Kreacher?”

“Kreacher,” Draco said. “You guys got a nap and I didn’t. I’m really tired.”

“I can feed you with my fingers so you don’t have to do anything.”

Draco made a face and said, “No thanks, Weasel. With your table manners, I’d end up with more food on my face than in my mouth.”

“Anything else you want in your mouth, Ferret?”

Draco blushed and shoved him over. “Shut up.”

\---

A few minutes before midnight, the two sets of elemental wizards met in the main parlour of Grimmauld place. Already, the rooms had a cleaner, brighter shine to them.

“We cannot stay,” Diamber said. “Our magicks cannot interfere with the bond.”

“Merlin forbid we somehow form an octuplet bond,” Julian said.

“Merlin was an arrogant prat,” Henri said, “sort of like someone else I know,” he lifted an eyebrow at Julian, “and I truly wish you would stop using his name in such a way. It is all your fault that his wretched name is used so frivolously these days.”

Julian smirked.

“Children,” Sophia said patiently.

Both of them stuck out their tongues at her.

“We will be back in twenty-four hours to check on you,” Diamber said.

“To make sure you aren’t dead,” Julian added. “Although there won’t be much we can do if you are. Good luck.”

He jauntily saluted them and headed for the door.

Sophia smiled after him. “Everything you need is up in the room. And Kreacher is under strict orders to not interfere or go anywhere near you unless you specifically call for him. Be cautious, be safe.” She followed Julian out the door. Henri trialed after her with a wave and a goodbye.

“You’ll be fine, children,” Diamber said. “All four of you are very strong, and according to Minerva, the strongest of your classmates. You’ve faced challenges that many have never even had to consider. You’ve bonded over those challenges and it is that bond, the one of friendship, that will make this one successful.” She winked. “And remember, enjoy yourselves. This is for love.”

Harry squeezed Draco’s hand. “Thank you for your help.”

The others echoed him.

“You’re welcome, dear. You’ll all be fine.” She patted Draco’s shoulder and followed her bondmates out of the house.

The four of them stood in silence after the door shut.

Finally it was Ron who huffed and said, “Better get started.”

“Yeah,” Hermione said and headed up the stairs, Ron right behind her.

Draco moved to follow, but Harry tugged on his arm. Turning, he found himself in a firm hug and then with a firm kiss to his lips.

“I love you,” Harry said.

Draco frowned.

“I do, and you can’t say anything to dissuade me from that. The last few days, well, the last two weeks, I just ... I’ve never been good at expressing my feelings, but I feel like I don’t have to with you. You usually just get it.”

Draco smiled. “It takes a lot of intelligence to decipher the nonsense that comes out of your mouth, Potter.”

Harry smiled. “Good thing it has other uses, isn’t it, mate?”

“Very very good.”

Draco pulled him close for another kiss. Ron shouted at them to hurry up.

Draco’s trepidation grew with each stair. The only thing that kept him moving and not succumbing to the Slytherin instinct of self-preservation was Harry’s warm hand on his back, and Ron’s welcoming smile as he climbed the stairs, and Hermione’s concerned face.

He went to her first, sliding his hands around her waist and pressing a long kiss to her lips. Her chest hitched and when he pulled away; she was crying again. He wiped at her cheeks.

“Let’s go get bonded,” he whispered.

She smiled and nodded.

“I’m nervous,” Draco admitted, “but you’ve done this one before. Second time should be easy, right? No mistakes?”

She shook her head. “No, and you read the instructions and our notes. We’ll be fine.”

“And after, we’ll be fine, after, as well?”

“That’s the goal.”

“We better get started,” Harry said, just as the downstairs clock started chiming midnight.

Ron opened the door into the room, and Draco felt a rush of energy. He shut his eyes and followed the tug on his arm.

The entire room was stripped bare save for a high table against one wall. A series of pots and jars sat upon it.

“I’ll get the circle started,” Hermione said, picking up a clear jar full of a weird red mixture: the clay, water, ash and berries.

“And we’ll get naked,” Ron said.

Draco snorted. “What?”

“Trust us,” Harry said while tugging the heavy sweater over his head. “It is so much better.”

Draco swallowed roughly and started stripping. His hands shook and the energy in the room had his skin breaking out in goose flesh. He felt anxious and insecure, turning to the side a bit to hide himself, which made no sense since the three of them had seen him naked so often.

Harry slid close to him, hands snaking around his waist. Lips touched his shoulder and Draco shut his eyes.

Hermione’s voice murmured in the background, Latin spells that made the energy shimmer, as she laid out the mixture in a circle.

Ron’s hotter body curled around both of them, arms pulling them close.

“We have to be careful not to use too much magic,” Ron murmured. “I can already feel myself spiraling.”

“Burning us all would be bad, Ron,” Harry said.

Ron smiled. “Time enough for that later.” His hot hand cupped Draco’s ass and Draco moaned. His dick pulsed, growing and sliding along Harry’s side.

Harry shivered.

“Boys, focus,” Hermione said as she settled the pewter goblets in their correct locations. “Get in the circle and sit please.”

Draco took one more deep breath of courage, shutting up the sudden and persistent voice that told him this was stupid and he was about to die. It sounded like his father.

Ron held his hand as they walked toward Hermione. He bent over to kiss her cheek and squeezed Draco’s hand and then led him into the circle.

Each location was marked with a symbol: a leaf for Harry, a single flame for Ron, a water droplet for Hermione, and a curl signifying air for Draco. Strips of the berries, clay, ash and water mixture formed straight lines and connected all four of them to each other. In the middle of the circle were lengths of rope.

Ron and Harry sat right on their symbols, the pewter goblets in front of them. Draco copied them, shifting a bit at the weird texture of dirt on his bare skin. A pure silver blade almost hummed next to the goblets. His breath sped up, and then Hermione closed the circle.

A heavy rush of wind blew at them, disturbing their hair and buffeting them with its warmth. But nothing else moved, and Draco leaned back into it with his eyes shut and smiled. It almost felt like being on a broom.

“Shit,” Ron muttered, and Hermione hushed him.

It was a few moments later, of Hermione muttering the spells from the book, that Draco felt the circle take him. He was in control of himself, but he also wasn’t. The magicks compelled him and led his movements. It was easy to lift the knife in one hand. It was easy to press the blade against his skin.

He had feared the part where he cut his own hand, but the slice of the knife did not hurt. The thin slice did not bleed at first, and then the wound welled with blood. Draco held his hand over the goblet. The first drop of blood sizzled with the contents already in the goblet, and then four more followed. The magicks closed the wound and the contents in the goblet bubbled and then stilled.

He glanced up at the other three. It was like looking through fog. Or smoke. Concerned, he looked at Ron, and saw that he was smoking. Literally smoking, and his face was twisted in pain. Panic bubbled in him and he tried to move, but couldn’t get up. The smoke washed away with a breath of wind and Ron’s eyes sought his and he tried to smile, though it was a grimace, and then the magicks twisted around Draco again, and as one they lifted the goblets. The liquid burned down his throat and Draco screamed and realized that the noise did not go past his mind. He felt the potion’s trip down his throat, each centimeter throwing another burst of pain through his limbs. Frozen, dulled, twisted and changed. Completely changed. He could not move, he could not breathe or swallow. Barely think.

Except a single line, a single phrase.

_Aer enim est fons vitae._

It rolled through his mind and rolled off his tongue and echoed around them, merging and molding with the other three’s voices, until it was one noise and one sound and one phrase that had no translation and no meaning, but unbidden it fell from Draco’s lips, each repetition like a knife to his heart and pain tingled all the way to his fingertips.

Harry moved first, a sensuous crawl to the middle of the circle, and Draco felt himself able to move. He followed the compulsion to the middle of the circle and helped the other two restrain Harry with the rope. The magicks twisted through everything, and the rope almost felt alive, going where it was guidened, tightening on wrists and ankles until Harry was kneeling, right in the middle of the circle. His wrists and ankles were tied together, a thick strand of rope around his neck and down the front of him, rubbing on reddened skin and leaving white lines of scratches on his stomach. The rope wrapped around his cock and balls just once and then snaked between his legs and connected to the rope around his wrists and ankles.

The magic pulsed and Harry’s body bent backwards.

Draco slid his fingertips up Harry’s side and leaned forward. When his mouth touched Harry’s skin, a low moan echoed through him and Harry shook, his body pulsing, his skin bursting with gooseflesh. His moan was louder as it echoed around them. Draco found his nipple and sucked harshly, almost feeling magic enter his mouth. One hand kept him steady on the floor and the other moved up and down Harry’s thighs and hip and down to cup his balls. His hand occasionally brushed against Ron’s or Hermione’s. Harry’s moans grew louder. The magicks twisted around them faster, almost like a tornado of silent wind. No, not wind. Energy. Energy and feelings.

Draco pulled away from Harry’s nipple and sank back to his knees, breathing heavily.

Harry was pulled taut in the bindings his chest and stomach arched, his head almost to his bound elbows. Like a bow ready to release an arrow.

And then he was coming, spraying his release around them and up over his body. It was Hermione who scooped it up from his skin and into the goblet. Another spark of energy and Harry’s scream was pure and clear in their heads. His cock throbbed again and he was spraying more of his release. It happened again and again. The pleasure continued for longer than Draco thought possible until the goblet was half full of Harry’s release.

And then the ropes just slid off Harry and he sagged to the ground, back rising and falling with his heavy breaths.

Ron helped him move back to his spot and as soon as he was there, his heavy breathing stopped and he was in complete control of himself.

More unknown Latin phrases spilled from Draco’s mouth, and then it was Ron being drawn into the middle of the circle. The magicks snagged him in the same way and the ropes, covered with Harry’s release, bound him in the same position with his body in a perfect curve and his large and proud cock standing tall and already dripping.

He was facing Draco, and Draco licked his lips, lowering his head, like a magical hand was pushing him down by the neck. He moaned at the first touch of cock to lips and then he sank down on Ron’s erection, taking him all the way. A moment of clarity had him wondering how he managed to take all of Ron’s cock into his throat when he hadn’t been able to before, but because all of this was so strange, the magicks helping him deepthroat Ron’s heavy dick made perfect sense.

And so did not being able to breathe while he did it. Draco focused on the feel of him, pushing deep in his throat, sliding back to his lips, and over and over again while he bobbed his head. He wanted to speed up, but the magicks kept him in check, a steady movement, a perfect blowjob. They let him touch and Draco did, tugging on Ron’s balls, sliding his hands under his thighs to tease his ass and slip a finger into his body. And then two and then three, until he was pumping four fingers into Ron to the same tempo as he sucked on him.

When he slowed, when he started to pull away, he protested with a moan. He wanted to always do this, always be right here, and how dare the magicks not let him gag on a load of Ron’s come after doing all this work. He needed it in his mouth, all over his face, and inside him! But the magicks yanked him back and Ron was coming, more than even Harry, and it was Draco’s job to scoop it into the goblet, using his fingers to get as much of it into the cup as possible.

Ron’s cock throbbed and dribbled more into the goblet, and Draco held his cock down and let it drip right into the mixture. He jerked Ron off to another immediate orgam, and when his release curled over his knuckles, Draco said fuck it and brought his hand up to his mouth to lick it clean. Ron’s come was hot in his mouth, and Draco wanted to fall forward again and lick the rest of it up. The magicks let him do so and just for a little more of a taste, he leaned down and sucked on the head of Ron’s dick. Almost on cue, his cock throbbed and exploded and Draco gagged on the sudden mouthful of come. Someone near him chuckled, but he swallowed and only let a few drops escape his mouth. They dripped from his chin and into the goblet.

The magicks were in control again and just as suddenly it was Hermione in the circle, already dripping wet and wide open. Ron went down on her with fingers and mouth, and Draco found himself at a breast, kneading and sucking and kissing it. He opened his eyes just once, and they latched with Harry’s who was sucking on her other breast. They were swirling with green, sparking with lightning. Draco wondered if his were the same. His hands slid over her ass and pressed into her, sharing the tight hole with one of Harry’s fingers. Her moans were so loud and Draco seriously wanted and needed to get his cock into that tightness. But the magicks only let him add another finger.

Hermione’s body quaked through her release, and Ron was there between her legs to catch the sudden gush of her pleasure. But the magicks did not let her go, and instead of his mouth, Ron went into her with his dick, fingers on her clit. He slammed into her from the odd angle, hand holding her hip. Her entire body shook so hard with her second orgasm that the fluid dripped from around Ron’s dick and toward the floor. The magicks twisted the goblet at just the right time to get it, and then Ron was back at her with his mouth for a taste and two more orgasms before the magicks released her.

Anxiety permeated the blessed empty and fuzzy feeling of the magicks swirling through Draco’s mind and body. He moved, compelled, to the center of the circle. His breath sped up and then there were hands on him and rope and pleasure stole everything away. There was nothing but pleasure. Mouths hands moans, and his body was on fire, on edge. A hot mouth at his dick, others on his skin. His channel clenched around nothing and then relaxed, gaping open for something to fill it. Only a finger or two every now and then. It wasn’t enough, nowhere satisfying enough. He wanted a cock, a big fat cock or two, forcing him open, forcing him down.

Hands ran over his skin, feeling like sandpaper and burning as the pleasure took over. His gasps and moans echoed through his mind. His body was not his to control. The pleasure pooled in his stomach, and then he was choking on it, too strong too much, with no outlet. Fire burned under his skin again, the sound of water rushed through his brain, and he felt as if the ropes were vines instead, and everything twisted in a sudden wind of pain, and he was screaming internally, mouth open in silence, as his body released the pleasure in heavy jerks, and he was coming all over himself and all over everything.

There was no relief from the pleasure of the first orgasm, and his body immediately went into the same cycle and he was screaming, jerking and coming again and then again. It felt like it went on for hours, it felt like his body was held at the precipice of orgasm for days. With no relief, and then everything slithered off him. A weird shimmering feeling behind his eyes and along his skin, and he felt broken and open and bare, heart mind and soul.

He sagged in the middle of the circle, the ropes sliding off him and leaving him feeling empty and alone.

So empty. He wanted to cry, probably would have if it hadn’t been for the aftereffect, the little bursts of pleasure stealing everything from him and making his cock pulse out small bits of come.

And then he was compelled again, to move and he crawled back to his corner, and then took a heavy swallow of the mixture from his goblet. He held out his hand and another goblet was put into it and he drank, passing it around, drinking passing drinking passing drinking passing until the goblets were empty and Draco was trying with his fingers to get the last dredges of the best mixture into his mouth.

Goblets clattered to the floor and then the pain started, in his chest, in his soul, and he screamed, trying to twist away from it. The only thing that curbed the pain was touching skin, more skin, hot skin, wet skin, warm skin, and his ... his cool skin. More touches and hands and kisses and the wind and the world faded, and then he was clear and his hands were gripping Harry’s ass, and he was thrusting inside and finally something heavy and thick was inside him, stretching him open and he was coming and coming. Inside Harry, or Hermione, and then Ron and then over his own stomach with cries and whimpers around them.

A cycle of clarity and pleasure and confusion, and with each round, Draco grew a bit more in control of himself and a bit more aware of the vines and water around him, and the fire keeping them all warm. Wind whipped through their hair, and his cries echoed around them as he came again, and then again. Into a sudden and welcome oblivion.

\---

When Draco woke up, he had to squeeze his eyes shut and let his mind catch up to his body. Awake? More like conscious of his surroundings. He had obviously been awake and doing something.

Doing Harry. Sliding into his body. Hands behind Harry’s knees, holding him open. Fucking through what was probably a lot of come. And lube. It seeped from Harry’s stretched and reddened rim.

Bollocks.

Draco slowed his thrusts, blinking roughly as his vision cleared. Sort of. The edges wavered under the tight grip of pleasure.

Harry growled, gripping Draco’s thighs and pushing him back, pulling him forward. “Move, move.”

Draco tried, but he was still so very confused. Warmth molded to his back.

“He just needs a little help,” Ron said, lips against Draco’s ear.

He shuddered and them moaned, his hips jerking back as Ron slid inside him. The tight grip on his cock loosened, and then was back as Ron thrust forward, forcing Draco back inside Harry.

“There we go,” Ron said.

Harry moaned, and Draco moaned, his mouth open. The vision went fuzzy again, and whatever clarity of mind he had for that brief moment was gone, sucked into lust, chaos, and love of warmth and power.

\---

Hours blurred. Orgasms blurred. Feelings blurred. Sometimes it was dark in the room when Draco grew aware of himself. Sometimes it was bright with sunlight. He did not know anything beyond his own skin. Even the simple act of thinking caused a multitude of painful twists in his mind and body.

Thinking was overrated when you had three perfect, gorgeous, eager lovers in your bed.

A moment of clarity after an orgasm lengthened to clarity of a few minutes and then a half hour. A full half hour.

Though a couple of his bedmates were not so fortunate. Harry was on his hands and knees, his mouth between Hermione’s legs, fingers inside her while he sucked at her clit. Both were moaning, bodies rocking.

Draco lifted his head and saw Ron passed out on the other side of the bed.

When he looked back at HarMione, he felt compelled to join them. It was a feeling he did not mind listening to and it thudded through him to the same tempo as Hermione’s breasts bounced from rocking herself down onto Harry’s fingers and mouth. He crawled to them and stopped one breast in a firm grip and sucked the nipple into his mouth. Hermione cried out, hand wrapping around him and fingers questing for his ass. Draco shifted enough to let her, and two of her fingers slipped into him easily. She yanked on him and whimpered his name followed by, “Cock, suck on your dick, please.”

Again, Draco obeyed, moving one knee over to her other side. With fingers inside him, she found his dick with her mouth and he thrust down, into her throat. Her moans echoed around him and he stayed up on his hands and knees, mouth open. Harry pulled away from her with his mouth, pulled her legs up and out and sank his dick into her wet body. She almost bit down on Draco’s dick as her body shuddered and then kept shuddering. Harry thrust into her wildly, stopping when Draco had enough of watching and being jealous of Hermione’s pussy. He wanted that dick, and he pushed Harry back hard enough and managed to get his own mouth around his dick. Only Harry’s moans were not muffled and he fucked hard and fast, almost gagging Draco with his cock and then with his come.

Draco swallowed it down and with each pulse of pleasure, he lost a little bit more of himself and all was gone in their lust.

\---

It took days before Draco stopped fucking long enough to eat. It took days before all four of them managed to get themselves under control. Sort of.

They still touched, moving to each other no matter where they were or what room they were in. They ate with kisses, they slept with touches, and they were always naked. Hermione once tried to put on a T-shirt, one of Ron’s so it was baggy and hid nothing. Ron threw fire at it and then pounced on her.

Draco did not mind. More skin to touch and kiss and love.

It took a few days for all four of them to realize that they each had a brand new magical tattoo. In the same spot, over their ribs, just under the chest, on the left side. Ron’s was fire, dancing in a silent wind. Harry’s was a skittering of leaves, turning colors from green to orange to brown as they blew over his skin. Hermione’s was a rainstorm, with little puddles forming at the base of the tattoo and others being tossed in the wind. And Draco’s was a silvery twist of air, spiraling and curling on itself.

“There were no notes about these,” Hermione said while Draco ran his finger over hers. “I am going to ask Professor McGonagall or Madame Whetle when we see them again.”

“When will that be?” Draco asked.

Hermione shrugged. “I already feel much better than I did last time after four days, so maybe we won’t be as ill feeling as before. Maybe we’ll get back to class by Monday!”

Ron groaned from the bed.

Harry chuckled and muttered something about making Ron feel better, and the lust within them all flared, and Hermione bit her lip and left her chair and Draco’s lap. Draco licked his lips, watching her walk. Thighs and ass covered in bite marks and handprints. For a moment, he thought that he wouldn’t mind watching, but as soon as she was close enough, Harry was biting her thigh and Ron was kissing her, hand squeezing her ass, and Draco wanted to get inside her first. He jumped from the chair and joined the three of them on the bed.

\---

A week after the bond, they managed to go a few hours between each bout of sex. They managed to stay dressed in comfortable clothes for a little while, and they even managed to get down to the kitchen for food.

Kreacher quivered in their presence and the usual disdain he felt for Harry was replaced with an awe at the power inside them.

“Should we talk about being immortal yet?” Ron asked.

Harry almost spit out his tea. Hermione cleared her throat and shifted uncomfortably on her chair. Draco tightened his grip on the spoon he had been using to scoop up the fruit and cream dish Kreacher had prepared for them.

“Maybe not,” Ron said after a moment of silence.

“I’m not sure how to talk about it,” Hermione said. “We can’t change it.”

“What’s done is done,” Draco said. He found that after the completion of the bond, eternity didn’t seem so bad. “And it’s not like we can make a magical pact right now and say, in five hundred years we are going to die. What if we’re working on something very important in five hundred years?”

“Yeah, that’s smart,” Hermione said. “I think as long as we’re open and honest with each other all the time, then we’ll be all right. If one of us is tired, if one of us is just done, it’s important that you can come to us. I don’t want one of us to decide to poison us all.”

“Another thing we have to think about is children,” Ron said.

Hermione frowned and nodded.

“Children?” Draco said, holding his fork steady.

“Mum is already asking us about grandchildren,” Ron said. “We figured that after ... after, the four of us would live together of course, but in public our relationships would be me and Hermione and you and Harry, that way we didn’t cause any suspicion. But Harry wants kids, I want kids ... The Malfoys need an heir, yes?”

“My mother would ...”

 _You do you,_ her note had said.

“Actually, I don’t know what my mother would think if I had a child with a Muggleborn.”

“So too soon to be talking about this,” Harry said. “We’re not even done with school!”

“Ugh, school,” Ron said. “Do we really have to go back? We got what we came for.”

Hermione drained her tea and said, “Turn it into a mouse.” She pointed to the teacup.

Ron furrowed his face and flung his hand at it. There was a little pop from the amount of power he used, but the mouse still had a flower pattern on its fur and when Ron tried to turn it back into a teacup, it still had a tail.

“Fine, fine,” Ron said. “We’re going back to school.”

“Not for another week,” Hermione said. “We really need to make sure we can control ourselves and not start fires or flood things or cause random tornadoes. I feel more powerful and in control, but remember, we felt the same way for a couple of days before things went batty.”

Harry nodded. “It’s a good idea to wait. We’ll need to contact the Headmistress.”

“Can we tomorrow?” Ron said and stood up from the table. His erection was fighting with the fabric of his pants. “Using magic is just ... fuck. We definitely aren’t ready to go back yet.”

Harry licked his lips and said, “Definitely not.”

\---

Draco woke up in the early morning hours. His bondmates still slept.

Bondmates. He had not planned on bonding with anyone after the mess of the war. He did not think anyone would even want to.

Carefully, as to not wake the others, Draco climbed from the bed. Harry huffed in his sleep and curled up closer to Ron. Smiling, Draco leaned down and kissed his shoulder. He moved through the room and put on a pair of his own track pants and one of Ron’s jumpers that was oversized and warm and smelled a little like woodsmoke.

He left the bedroom quietly and then said, “Kreacher.”

The old elf popped in front of him and bowed. “Yes, Master Malfoy?”

Draco swallowed. “Is there a crow’s nest on this house?”

“Yes, Master.”

“Take me there.”

The elf touched his knee and in the next moment, Draco found himself outside at the top of the house. He stumbled on the landing.

“I meant through the house so I can find it on my own,” Draco said, “but thank you. I’ll call you when I am ready to leave.”

“It is possible that Master Potter and Master Weasley and Miss Hermione may wonder where you are before then.”

Draco smiled and nodded. “You can tell them.”

Kreacher bowed and said, “I will bring you tea, Master Malfoy.”

“Thank you.”

“An honour, sir.” The elf disappeared.

Draco sat on the small bench in front of the little window that led to this space. He stared out across the tops of neighboring houses and into the London fog that blanketed the city in the early mornings.

He thanked Kreacher for the tea and biscuits when the elf returned, and then sipped on the hot, green and lemon tea while contemplating his life.

Bonded. Wow. He had no idea how to explain this to his mother. He wondered if he should, but it did not feel right to keep it from her. She had already lost her husband and her friends and her standing in society. Despite that, she kept her head up, she was trying to better herself just like Draco was, and she was doing it with impeccable charm. He had told her about his relationship with Harry, so maybe she could handle this.

He felt he did owe her an explanation, because she had gone out of her way to attempt to find a private tutor and then he’d just suddenly said, “I’m going back to Hogwarts.” She had supported him and asked no questions, and helped him decide how to work with Harry Potter without getting into petty fights.

His mother had always been his constant supporter. Secret or not, she deserved to know about this, especially if he was going to be having children with Hermione.

_Merlin, their kids better not inherit her hair._

Draco shut his eyes and thought about his magic. He had always felt it, especially with a wand in his hand. It simmered in his soul, almost right where his new magical tattoo was. It had been the focus for it. He still felt it, but so much stronger than before. Just a thought had a small breeze blowing over him, and he felt powerful enough to remove the fog from the city.

If Voldemort had taught him anything it was just because you can doesn’t mean you should.

Instead, Draco opened his eyes and focused on his hand and watched a single leaf spiral in the small twister that rose from his palm. The magic enveloped him and he loved it, loved the feeling, loved the power, and soon to be control. He knew better than to think this small experiment meant he had complete control. He wasn’t that daft.

Sophia had explained about potions, and Draco really wanted to know how this new power would affect his brewing. He’d ask Harry if there was a place where he could practice something special like a Shrinking Solution or a Pepper Up.

To his surprise, the next person to join him wasn’t one of the Golden Trio, but Sophia. She smiled widely at him as she climbed through the window. Her purple robe was wrinkly and covered in dust, but only for as long as it took for her to wave a hand at herself and it all settled down. After sitting, Kreacher popped in and offered her a cup of tea and another plate of biscuits.

“So. How are you doing?” she asked.

“Good,” Draco answered.

“Mostly?”

Draco looked out over the sun-brightened houses. “Yes, mostly. It’s still new. It’s still ...”

“Pretty and shiny and sexy?”

Draco chuckled. “Yes.”

“It will stay that way, if you let it.”

“Is this a ‘don’t fall into the same hubris as Salazar Slytherin’ speech?”

Sophia’s eyes twinkled and she hid her smile behind her mug. “The Founders bonded in slightly similar circumstances. Slytherin and Gryffindor were lovers, but their society demanded they marry, so they did. To Rowena Ravenclaw and Helga Hufflepuff. There was always a little bit of resentment. Slytherin wanted Gryffindor to himself, but Gryffindor convinced them to form the bond to make the school stronger.”

“So Gryffindor was an idiot. No surprise.”

“The other two also blamed him when Slytherin left. No one really knows the exact reason why he left.”

“He’s a Slytherin, probably self-preservation.”

“Yes, but it didn’t work. He may have taken himself out of the bond, so he no longer had to be with the other four and no longer sought their company, but it was still there, connected to his magic. It is irreversible. So when Gryffindor killed himself, all four of them died.”

Draco nodded. “The Golden Trio were foolish to try to bond with only three of them.”

“They’re lucky to have you,” she said, “and not just because otherwise you’d all be dead. Air controls all we do. Air creates water and rainstorms, air fuels fire, and air gives life to plants. Much can be said for the others, where earth fuels fire, but water destroys it, as does some earth. And earth and water fight for the same space. None of the other three can form any type of connection without air. You are their center. You will always be their center.”

A pretty vivid image of himself impaled on both Ron and Harry’s cocks while Hermione sucked on his filled his brain and he cleared his throat.

Sophia laughed. “Only a few things can ever curb the lust between bondmates.”

Draco thought of McGonagall and Madame Pomfrey. Yep, that still worked.

“So Professor McGonagall is part of another bonding,” Draco said.

Sophia hummed. “I knew you’d be smart enough to figure that out. Minerva discovered the bond in much the same way Hermione did, but she was even more tenacious. She found the four of us when we were living in Persia and demanded to know all about the bond. We attempted to thwart her, but nothing stands in Minerva’s way when she wants something. She and Rolanda had been lovers, and with Poppy and Pomona, had formed a very strong friendship centered on them being different from others of their time. All four readily agreed to the bond. I do not think they have had any of the same problems as Gryffindor and Slytherin.”

“And you four?”

She smiled. “We fight and bicker like most couples, but as always, we would give up our lives for each other.”

“And you haven’t? I mean, it’s been thousands of years.”

“A fair number, yes, but we enjoy life, we enjoy seeing the way the world works and changes. We have discussed a suicide pact many times.”

Draco took a deep breath. “What about children? The other three are talking about children.”

Sophia’s eyes unfocused and she frowned. “It is painful to watch a child die before you, Draco. You may believe you want it, you may even enjoy it, but there is nothing more painful. Henri and I had two children. We worked very hard on contraceptive spells and potions after that. Henri is listed as the inventor of the first ones. But do not forget that Hermione is the ultimate one to make that decision because it would not be fair or right to force her into having a child she does not want. And no guilt trips. You listen to her just as you would listen to any of the other three in your bond. There are some things where even compromise does not work.”

Something tingled on Draco’s chest and he lifted a hand to touch the area that he knew where the tattoo was.

“Tattoo?” Sophia said.

“How did you know?”

“It’s a manifestation of the elements.”

“Hermione said there was no mention of them in the notes.”

Sophia shook her head. “No, there isn’t. Because they look different. My air tattoo doesn’t look anything like yours and it’s in a completely different spot. But if it’s tingling ... well.” Sophia stood up and rubbed her hands on her robes. “I feel magic swirling again. You best get back to your bondmates. Kreacher!”

Draco had enough time to eat the last biscuit before Kreacher was obeying Sophia’s orders and taking him right back to the room where his three lovers were already in the bed and entwined.

“Told you so,” Harry said. “Told you that if we started fucking that he’d appear.”

Draco smiled and leaned over him for a kiss while Ron’s hands worked on taking off his clothes. “I wouldn’t want to be anywhere else.”


	12. Back To School

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the super long delay in this. This chapter just would not write itself.
> 
> This is the last chapter with a short epilogue at the end. Thank you to everyone who read it! 
> 
> <3 <3 <3

Using his Wind was intoxicating and sensual. Calling on a small breeze or twisting the air around him into a small tornado had Draco hard as a rock and ready for sex. But it was also gratifying, calming, and loving. Wind brushed over his skin and it felt like a lover’s touch, a soft caress, a firm massage.

He met with Sophia once a day to help control it.

“Miss Granger is amazing and she could also teach you the way she taught the other two, but this will be faster.”

It started small everyday, just little whirlwinds and small blasts of air. He worked up to room-sized tornados and helped Sophia clean up the caked-on dust and grime in the rooms of _Grimmauld place_. Sophia pushed him until the brink of orgasm, the brink of losing control, and then sent him off to his lovers, who were also learning from their Elemental counterparts and had no problem at all stopping the lengthy lessons to fuck. It turned into a week of a schedule he did not mind at all: magic, more magic, and then sex and more sex.

Professor McGonagall and Madam Pomfrey arrived the next Sunday to talk about them returning to school.

Madam Pomfrey first ran a quick diagnostics on them and nodded in satisfaction. “Your magical core has been restored, Mister Malfoy. You are no longer in danger.”

Draco nodded. “Well, that’s good news. Is there bad news?”

The two exchanged a look and Professor McGonagall said, “Not with most of the teachers, although there is one who is adamant that the four of you do not return to school. We of course will overrule this particular professor.”

Harry coughed something that sounded like Slughorn, and Hermione snorted.

“After talking to Diamber and Sophia, we feel that it is best that you take one more week to learn more control. I will make sure that your homework is sent to you so that you can get caught up and not fall too far behind. And, Mister Weasley, I expect you to have finished that essay on the theories behind Transfiguration before you return next Monday.”

Ron groaned. “Yes, Professor.”

“Professors,” Hermione said carefully. “I ... well, I don’t want to seem judgemental, but ... I can really tell the difference between our new bond and what Ron and Harry and I had before. I feel so much more powerful, and I was ... I mean, why ...” She huffed to herself. “I do not want you to think I’m blaming you. Why ... why ... during the final battle, you never used your powers?”

Professor McGonagall smiled at her. “No,weI did not. The Elemental Bond is so dangerous, as I’m sure you have learned. You are not the first to attempt it after we completed it and we were not the first to attempt it after the Founders. It is a secret, and I’m sure I do not have to tell the four of you that you need to keep it that way. There were many times during the final battle that I wanted to, that I wanted to release fire at all the Death Eaters, but I knew that I could not. There is not a week that goes by that I wonder ‘what if.’ What if I had acted faster? What lives would have been saved?” She glanced over Ron. “Could I have saved Fred Weasley? Remus and Tonks? But imagine for a moment if the wizarding world knew of this bond.”

Hermione nodded. “It’s dangerous.”

“It is. And you four understand danger and what happens when a wizard or witch has too much power. I am not worried about you taking advantage of the power inside you. And I trust that you will keep this secret.”

They all nodded.

\---

**One week later**

School felt strange.

Draco was in complete control of himself and had no worries about random bursts of wind or tornadoes destroying everything. Everytime he felt like he was spiraling (and that was such an appropriate word for how his magic danced inside him), there were three other brushes of control that helped him back to the ground, so to speak.

But the school. It was permeated with magic. So much of it. Draco felt like he could run his fingers through the streams of it as he walked down the halls. He felt like he could sink into the bricks of the castle itself to go for a swim.

They arrived late on Sunday night, after everyone had gone to bed, Flooing in from the fireplace at the newly cleaned and much better smelling _Grimmauld place_. After three weeks, the idea of getting back into doing homework and going class and studying was a bit mind boggling.

Professor McGonagall escorted them through the halls. “We have stuck to the story of a threat to you four, a serious threat. The Aurors have captured the culprits, just a small band of wayward Death Eaters, and everything is safe now. Please make sure you stick with that story and that you were in a safehouse. Also, I do hope you’ve completed your homework.”

Ron grumbled.

“Don’t worry, Professor. We did,” Harry said. “The only thing Hermione likes more than sex is homework.”

Professor McGonagall snorted. “Speaking of. I’m going to ask you to refrain from sexual relations for a few days. I know you can feel the magic of the castle and adding elemental sex when you are not used to it can cause ... well, let’s just say that back in the day, the giant squid wasn’t so giant, nor as intelligent.” She winked at them. “Just a few days.”

“We will, Professor,” Hermione promised, and Ron grumbled louder under his breath.

“It’s fine,” Harry said. “I sort of just want to swim in it. I’m not sure what will happen if I can’t control myself.”

Draco smiled and said, “A swim sounds good.” He held out his hand and shut his eyes, feeling the waves of magic flow around him.

“Sleep well, children, and we will see you in the morning for breakfast. And on time,” she said with a pointed look at Harry.

He only smiled back.

They entered the eighth-year common room. To Draco, it felt like it’d been years since he’d been there. So much had happened. He felt completely different.

“Do you mind if we crash in your room?” Hermione said. “I don’t want to disturb Hannah or Neville.”

“Sure,” Harry said. “You can sleep in my bed. Merlin knows I won’t be using it again.”

Draco scoffed. “Says you, Potter. I like sleeping--”

“With my vines wrapped around you,” Harry interrupted.

Draco rolled his eyes, but did not dispute what was so obviously true.

Their things had already been brought into the room, even Hermione and Ron’s. The silence between them was comforting, unhurried, and only punctuated with small smiles when their eyes met and small touches to skin when they got close enough to each other. Draco unpacked his essentials, and noticed that Harry didn’t bother, just changing into pyjamas. Even with her things there, Hermione chose to wear one of Ron’s Chudley Cannons long sleeve shirts. And panties. That was all.

Draco wondered if he really did have to keep control of himself.

A shimmering on the desk drew all their attention.

A plate of brownies and steaming mugs of hot chocolate.

Draco lifted an eye at Harry.

“Don’t look at me. That’s not my fault.”

Ron rubbed the back of his neck. “Blimey. I just had a passing through that something sweet sounded good right about now.”

“This is going to be interesting,” Harry said and took one of the mugs. “I was going to give Draco a blowjob before bed, but yeah ... this magic is too strong.”

“I really do hope that we’ll be able to control ourselves,” Hermione said before taking a brownie.

Draco hummed and took one himself. They were soft and rich with a thin layer of dark chocolate frosting. The hot chocolate was tinted with mint.

Hermione started talking about schoolwork, and Draco tuned out after sharing a “Look” with Ron. They finished their treat and then got ready for bed. Harry was curled up under the covers of Draco’s bed first, and Draco followed. Harry snuggled close to him, arm around his waist, head at his chest. He smiled, and Draco felt his happiness through the bond. Warmth, something dark purple, happiness. A cocoon of love. Maybe. It sounded silly in his head.

But when Ron settled on his other side with a heavy sigh, and Hermione wormed her way between their bodies. The cocoon spread for them, tightened around them, and just beyond his vision Draco could see the way that magic warped around them.

Relaxing. Calming. Endearing.

\---

**Monday Morning**

“We are never going to be on time for breakfast,” Harry said, tugging on a T-shirt. His missed the arm on the first try, his voice muffled as he continued. “Buggering ... just ...” A green vine twisted up, righted the shirt, and Harry managed to sling his arm through the armhole.

Draco watched through the mirror, laughing on the inside, only a smile on his lips. He buttoned up his dress shirt and worked on his tie. Hands touched his sides, or what he thought were hands. Vines slid up the front of his shirt, tugging on the buttons. Harry’s hands went to his ass.

“Potter, if you ruin this shirt--”

“I have way more money than I need, Malfoy. I’ll buy you another one.”

A button snapped off. One hand slid into Draco’s back pocket, the other went to the front of him, grabbing at his dick.

“Bloody hell, Harry.”

“Just wanted to see that cock of yours one more time,” Harry said and licked up his neck, pressing against his back for balance.

Draco wavered between giving in and resisting. A brush of wind helped stabilize him and he jerked away from Harry, panting as the lust simmered.

“I love how I can just tug at you and make you want me.”

“Wanting you is a permanent state of being,” Draco said. He caught Harry’s satisfied smirk in the mirror. “It’s a statement of fact. Nothing to get so tossed over.” He ran a hand over his clothes to fix them with a wave of magic.

“I love you,” Harry said.

Draco stopped and looked at him through the mirror again, not really sure what would happen if their eyes met without that small barrier.

Harry hadn’t said that since before the ritual. Draco hadn’t said it back then. He wasn’t sure if he could now. The boiling magic in this body that formed braids and ties to Harry, the castle, the other two that were probably waiting for them in the common room, all wanted him to say it back.

But he stayed quiet too long, and Harry glanced away with a heavy sigh. “You’re beautiful, you know?” He left the room quickly after that, and Draco met his own blank stare and thought about that. Thought about Harry, thought about the other two.

He felt like he needed to say it to all three of them before he could say it to just Harry.

Even if it were true. And it was. Draco thought. Maybe. He loved his mother. He’d do anything for her to keep her alive and well. But then again, he had saved Harry’s life, and Harry had saved his more than once. Was it the same? Draco wasn’t sure.

Taking a deep breath, he straightened his shoulders and nodded to his reflection. It winked back at him and said, “Sometimes reflections show more than just the outer appearance.”

Draco snorted and turned away from it. He grabbed his bag and left the room. When he got to the stop of the stairs, his eyes sought Harry’s, but Harry was turned away from him, face against Ron’s shoulder.

Ron smiled at him, so did Hermione. If Harry told them ... well, they didn’t seem to know that Draco hadn’t said it back.

Merlin. These three.

A wave of water buoyed him up, followed by a flare of heat and a touch of growth. Happiness. He felt his eyes sting and he smirked and sent his own brush of wind back, though with his emotions a bit wonky, it was more than just a mental breeze, and their clothes billowed for a moment.

“Sorry,” Draco said. “Still a bit ...”

“Yeah,” Ron said and pulled him into their hug. “Us too. Let’s get to breakfast. Eating always helps.”

Despite saying that, the four of them stood in the middle of the common room and just breathed, letting their magic settle and twist within them.

As always, Hermione broke them apart with a soft reminder that they’d be late. They shuffled close together all the way to the portrait hole and then separated when they were out in the hallway. Ron and Hermione held hands, walking in front of Draco and Harry.

Draco wanted to reach for his hand, but he wasn’t sure if he was allowed after that brief moment in their room. The look on Harry’s face stayed with him. It had been so brief before he turned away, but he saw it, and felt it. Disappointment, but also acceptance. Harry knew it was too soon, he just didn’t want to be happy about that.

“Mister Malfoy!”

Draco turned at the high squeal from behind him and almost didn’t catch the rushing blonde curls that launched themselves at him. He just managed to drop his bag and step back a few feet to keep them both from toppling to the ground.

“Hi, Alice,” he said.

She beamed at him. “Everyone said you were dead, that someone was trying to kill you, but I told them that you were too strong and too cool to die.”

Draco chuckled and twisted her around until she was on his back, his hands up under her legs. “I’m just fine. It took the Aurors a bit of time to find the culprits, but none of us were injured.”

She smiled widely up at him and nodded. “I told them you wouldn’t be!”

Hermione chuckled. “What is this? The Slytherin Prince making friends with first-year Hufflepuffs?”

Draco huffed. “I’m her mentor.”

“Mentor?” Alice said, and Draco noted the disappointment in her voice.

He wasn’t making anyone happy today.

“Fine, fine. Yes, Alice, you’re my friend.”

“Mikey says you’re mean git, but I told him that he’s just jealous of you.”

Draco smiled and then laughed when Ron scoffed. “Yes. You are definitely my friend.”

Alice nattered on about the three weeks that Draco had been gone, telling him all about flying and how Derek, the arrogant boy, had fallen off a broom and had to take Skele-Gro, but then acted like he was so injured afterward just to get favors from other students and teachers.

“Sounds like someone else I know,” Harry said and nudged Draco in the ribs with his elbow.

Draco cleared his throat. “I have no idea what you’re talking about, Potter.”

Ron rolled his eyes. “Sure, you don’t. Nothing about getting bitten by a hippogriff.”

“Nope, doesn’t ring a bell?”

“You got bitten by a hippogriff?” Alice said. “Cool!”

“Not cool,” Draco said. “It hurt.”

“He was a right prick about it too,” Ron added, “going on and on about how he couldn’t do his work so he made Harry do it instead.”

“That ... you wouldn’t ... but ...”

“It’s okay,” Harry said and patted Alice’s back. “Draco made a mistake, just like everyone else does. It was a poor choice, but he knows that now. He learnt from it. I hope.”

“I did,” Draco said quickly. “That’s what you do when you make mistakes. You apologize and you learn from it and you try not to do it again.”

“You wouldn’t do that now, would you, Draco?”

“Of course not.”

Ron snorted. “Three days ago, after having both Harry and I inside your--”

“RONALD!” Hermione shouted.

Ron grinned. “--I mean, when you said you were too sore to help clean, remember that?”

“I was too sore, and that was your fault!”

“Children,” Hermione said with a sigh, and turned to Alice. “Draco was an evil little git when he was younger, Alice. But he isn’t now. He’s our friend. He’s one of my best friends. Try not to judge your classmates on things they do when they are stupid, okay?”

Alice huffed, the breath pushing at Draco’s hair, and he knew he was going to have to spell it back into place.

The five of them entered the Great Hall, and silence settled among the students, and then whispers.

“I guess I better go eat breakfast,” Alice said with a sigh. “I’m so glad you aren’t dead, Mister Malfoy.”

Draco settled her on the ground and then kneeled in front of her. “Hey, we’re friends. Call me Draco, okay?”

She beamed at him. “Okay, Draco!”

“Look, there are always going to be people who think they are better than you, but don’t let that define who you are. Always be yourself, whoever you want to be, and learn from your mistakes, right?’

“Right!” she said with a firm nod.

“Get to your table.”

She saluted him with another cheerful smile and turned around to almost fly to the Hufflepuff table. As soon as she sat down, her friends were asking her about him, and Draco heard a, “He’s my friend!” that was almost shouted with too much enthusiasm.

He stood back up and saw that only Harry was still by him. “I was an arsehole when we were younger,” Draco said.

Harry’s lip twitched into an almost smile. “You were. Kinda still are.”

“But I’m learning,” Draco said, stepping a little closer to him. “Growing, and ...” He took a deep breath. “I don’t know what that means for you, for us, for this,” he waved his hand and felt the magic of the Great Hall swirl around his hand a little. The candles above them wavered. “I want ... to. You know I want to.” He really hoped Harry knew what he was talking about.

Harry frowned and then nodded. “I know. We’re both still growing. At least we can do it together.”

“Yes.” He held out his hand and instead of grabbing it, Harry stepped into him and kissed him on the lips.

The mutterings around them grew in volume.

“Still lovin’ that attention, Golden Boy.”

Harry smiled. “Just yours. Come on, let’s eat before we have to get to class.”

Draco took Harry’s hand for the short walk to the breakfast table. As soon as they sat down, Hermione said, “I’m sorry about earlier, Nev. I didn’t even think to knock first.”

Draco lifted an eyebrow at her.

“She walked in on Neville changing,” Ron said with his mouthful. “It was epic.”

Hermione huffed and leaned over to Draco and said in a not-quite-whisper, “Let’s just say that there’s a reason why Neville is so good at handling snakes.” She winked.

Harry laughed. “Merlin!”

Draco cleared his throat. “I could have gone my entire life without knowing that. No offence, Longbottom.”

“None taken. I could have gone my entire life without knowing that you know that I’m hung.”

“Very hung.” Hermione winked at him.

Ron growled around another bite of food.

They ignored him.

“I’m sure I'm going to see more of you two than I really want to,” Neville said. “You guys are dating. Just let me know when I have to make myself scarce.”

“It’s fine, Nev,” Hermione said. “We are probably just going to bunk with Harry and Draco now. It’s not like they’re using both of their beds.”

Neville snorted.

Harry smirked. “We use both of the beds, all the time. Sometimes more than once in the same night.”

There were groans around the table.

“Ugh, so what? You’re all happy and bullocks,” Finnigan said and took a bite of toast, tearing it violently. “Couples, couples, everywhere.”

“And not a hole to fuck?” Thomas supplied.

“Only because you haven’t ever asked,” Finnigan snapped at him.

Thomas’s eyes went wide. “What?”

There were sniggers around the table, and it probably took a moment too long for Finnigan to realize what he said.

“Nothing, just ... we’re friends, that’s all. That’s all it will ever be, and whatever.”

Thomas stared with wide eyes, and Finnigan shoved more food into his mouth.

“Was that a confession?” Harry asked.

“No. Just ... wha’ever”.

Dean snapped out of it, shoved a book into his bag and then got up from the eighth-year table and headed over to the Gryffindor table.

Finnigan stared after him, glowering a little when he sat next to Ginny Weasley with a smile. He threw his toast back to the plate and then stood up and said, “Bugger ... just ...” He left the Great Hall almost too quickly.

“Intervention?” Hermione whispered.

“Seems like it,” Ron said. “I’ll talk to Seamus.”

“I’ll talk to Dean,” Harry added.

“Shite,” Ron said. “We have to hurry. We’re going to be late.”

“Bugger,” Harry said. “Nev, I hope you’ve been doing our Herbology work for us.”

“You both owe me.”

Harry smirked at him. “Is that a request because it will take both of us to swallow your--”

Draco covered Harry’s mouth quickly with his hand and ignored the heat in his cheeks. “Sorry. Sorry. Should have brought something to gag him with.”

“There is a tie around his neck,” Neville said and grinned. “But no, it was not a request, and yes, I have been taking care of your projects, though Harry, yours is shite. Draco at least got most of his plans right.”

Harry groaned behind the hand, and that brought way too many images of Harry groaning around ties and his own vines while being buggered. He cleared his throat and hastily closed his robes before standing.

Harry laughed. They said goodbye to Ron and Hermione, and then the three of them headed to the greenhouse.

This time, when Harry walked next to him, Draco had no problems at all holding his hand.

\---

Draco sagged into his bed without even taking off his clothes. His entire body ached and his head was throbbing a little just behind his left eyelid. He was exhausted. Even a magical wave of water from Hermione wasn’t enough to get him up. He just wanted to sleep.

Hands manipulated his body. Really warm hands, and he smiled through the exhaustions, letting Ron take his clothes off.

“It will get better,” Ron muttered and kissed his now-bare shoulder.

Draco hummed in agreement. The first day back was always rough, and adding to that the need to keep control of his magic and not start wind storms while ignoring all the muttered curses still being sent his way and Harry’s amusement at their talks of love potions, and teachers’ slightly cautious glances and ... 

Yeah, Draco was exhausted.

Harry crawled into bed next to him, lips against his skin and fingertips tracing the very edge of the Sectumsempra scar that wrapped around his ribs. Harry’s gentle touches swept away the last of his tension, allowing him to actually relax in the bed. He was mostly asleep when Harry’s voice whispered into his ear, “You know I love you, Dray, you know I do. Most of me knows that you love me too, but I understand. Don’t ever think I don’t understand.”

Draco turned his head, opening one eye, and Harry smiled at him before their lips met in a kiss. Draco had meant to reply to that, but as their kiss turned a little deeper, their tongues met and twisted more often, he realized that he didn’t have to reply to that.

Harry was right. He understood. He understood everything about Draco. That understanding went both ways, and when Draco was ready to let the affection and lust turn into love, then he would say it.

Harry slowed their kiss down and used his hands more than his mouth to drive Draco toward ruin. Merlin, he wanted Harry desperately. He felt that he always would.

Always. Now there was a loaded word.

Sensing Draco’s sudden worry, Harry pulled away and frowned at him.

“Love?” Harry said, turning the word into a pet name that Draco wasn’t really ready for but one that had his chest swelling with affection.

“My thoughts are too jumbled to make sense of anything right now,” Draco said and cupped Harry’s cheek. He smiled hoping to reassure him and it seemed to work. Harry kissed his palm and then both of them scooted further up in the bed to get under the covers. Once situated, their kisses returned, soft and loving and deep. It felt strange to kiss Harry without any other goals or implications. And it felt positively wonderful.

Their magics danced between them, ebbing and flowing, green and silver, like a meadow of long grass blowing in the soft summer breeze. There were moments when the wind was more like a storm, but they didn’t last long. Exhaustion on both their parts kept them kissing and touching for comfort and love than anything else.

Draco knew he loved Harry, knew it just as strongly as he knew he loved his mother. There were still too many what ifs and issues in his head though, so instead of saying it out loud, he kissed Harry until they both fell asleep, almost at the same time, with their bodies entwined and their lips just a soft breath apart.

\---

**Tuesday morning...**

Draco woke up to an incessant pecking at the glass window. The wind yesterday turned into a storm over night that had drenched the castle grounds. Draco had slept soundly even through the lightning and thunder. The other bed was empty, and Draco frowned, wondering why Ron and Hermione were up so early. Well, it was Hermione. She was probably studying.

Grumbling, Draco untangled himself from the blankets and two vines, one that had wrapped around his thigh and another that had curled around his bicep. But he was only at the edge of the bed before one was back, twisting around his waist.

“Potter,” Draco growled and tried to yank it off again. It just tightened.

Harry was not awake.

Draco wished he could control water at this moment to throw at his most annoying lover. Instead, he said, “Potter” again, but made the sound go right into his ear.

Harry moaned and twisted in the bed, the vine trying to pull him along and back to Harry’s side.

“Harry! Stop it!”

Harry lifted his head, blinking his eyes to wake up. But that did not help Draco at all. When he focused on the vine at Draco’s waist, he only smirked and laid back down, wrapping his arms around one of the pillows, the vine still tugging at him.

“Harry,” Draco said.

“It’s early. Come back to bed.”

 

“There is an owl at the window, and I’m no longer tired.”

With a heavy sigh in a dramatic show to how very put out Harry was, he rolled to his other side and the vine slipped from around Draco’s waist.

“I’m not sure why you’re so upset,” Draco said. “It’s not like I don’t permanently have one of your monstrosities on me.” He waved his arm at him and the vine on his wrist suddenly tightened. Pain shot up his arm and he forced out, “Fuck you, Harry Potter.”

Harry’s laughter was muffled into the pillow. “Now it has thorns and it’s permanently attached.”

“I will cut off my arm.”

Harry kept laughing, but the thorns disappeared and the vine loosened. Draco winced and tossed a healing spell at his wrist. Still grumbling, he went to the window to open it and let his mother’s owl into the room.

The storm hadn’t died completely, and the cool air flung itself to Draco. He stood in the breeze, eyes shut, soaking it under his skin and into his magic. He probably would have stood there until he had to go to classes, but the owl screeched at him in fury.

Draco closed the window and went to his desk. He wished he had something to give the owl as a treat. No sooner than he thought that did a pile of owl-sized pieces of toast appeared on the table. She started eating and Draco managed to get the scroll off her leg.

_Draco Darling,_

_Word has reached me that you are safely back at school. While I am happy about that, I am ashamed that I had to hear such news from the Daily Prophet of all places. The nerve of you, my son._

_But there is some entertainment to be had with the situation. Unlike some fiery headed family, I am not sending you a Howler to make you aware of your mistake. Public humiliation is above the Malfoys._

_Do not consider this a reprieve from your own mistake, darling. But I will consider a smaller sentence (No French Chocolate For You Until HALLOWEEN!) if you explain in detail just the way the young Weasley boy reacts to the Howler that he is sure to get this morning. Please don’t warn him. That would ruin our fun._

_I am so happy that you are safe. Draco, the Manor is so lonely without you. I have been spending way more time than is socially acceptable at the Burrow with Molly Weasley, but she is a delight and she makes the most delicious fruit tarts. Her puddings are divine._

_I miss you. I miss my little dragon. I am working on being more forward with my feelings. I hope that is okay with you. I love you._

_Write me soon._

_With all of a Mother’s Love,  
Narcissa Malfoy_

Draco swallowed back tears. He missed his mother so much, too. He wondered if it was allowed for him to take tea with her one of these weekends. He was of age, so maybe the Headmistress would allow it.

He checked the time and was glad that he had enough time to write a reply to his mother before breakfast.

_Dear Mother,_

_I sincerely apologize for my serious lapse in judgment. In the past I would have blamed Harry Potter for it all, but this time, all I can blame is love. It’s strange being so entangled with someone that you feel as if you will be in love with them forever._

_Love. I ..._

Draco stopped and lifted up his quill, pondering how to word this. His mother would understand, he thought.

_I am okay with you expressing your feelings as long as you allow me the same. I feel I am too young to know what love is, but whatever this tightening in my chest is when I’m near Harry, whatever this desperate need to be close to him is, whatever this feeling of losing myself, my magic, and my soul to him when we kiss is, I like it. I like it a lot. I hope you are okay with that._

_Ron and Hermione are talking of being bonded over the summer. Harry probably already thinks it will be a double wedding. I guess these couple of months with Molly Weasley will prepare you to have her as my mother-in-law. But I desperately need your advice on this, Mother. It’s too soon, isn’t it?_

_And you have no worries with me spoiling the surprise. One of my favorite things at Hogwarts is watching Ronald Weasley receive a Howler from his mother._

_I will ask the Headmistress if I can come to tea with you on Sunday so we may talk about this._

_I love you too, Mother Dear. See you soon!_

_Draco Malfoy_

Draco rolled up the parchment and attached it to the owl. He opened the window again and watched her disappear within the clouds. He wanted to be out there, flying within all the wind. He let the cool air spin around him for a few more minutes and then shut the window. It was still too early for classes, but Draco knew he would not sleep again. Instead, he went to shower and get ready for the day. When he was dressed in slacks, a green button down, tie and his school robes, he glanced back at the bed.

Harry was still sleeping, dead to the world, only the slight rise of the blanket showed that he was breathing. Which was more comforting than Draco knew.

Draco headed down to the common room. He was not surprised that Hermione was awake, sitting on one of the Gryffindor couches and reading a book.

She lifted her head and smiled at him, whispering a good morning to him. He returned the smile and then glanced around the common room. They were alone. Thank Merlin. He hadn’t properly kissed Hermione since Sunday.

He sat beside her, took the book out of her hands, despite her mild protest and then gripped the back of her neck and pulled her to him for a kiss. She followed the pull easily, climbing into his lap to straddle his thighs. She messed up his perfectly styled hair with her hands, yanking his head back to slot their mouths together for a heavier kiss. The hardest part was keeping his hands at her waist, not bunching up her skirt to see what she was wearing underneath.

“Think I have time to eat you out?” Draco whispered.

A flush spread up her neck and she gasped, “I wish, but no. Not without magic.”

Draco hummed in agreement. “Guess kisses are all you get then.”

“Sometimes, that’s all I need.”

Their kiss slowed, more tongue than lips. It wasn’t like kissing Harry who usually followed Draco’s lead when he wasn’t being completely selfish. Hermione had always kissed him differently, and he let her, because her mouth was beautiful, and she knew how to use her tongue. He had no problems at all letting her control the pace and the intensity. And even if they couldn’t do more, didn’t have time to do more, she was so very good at grinding down on his lap and pulling unsophisticated whimpers and moans of lust from him.

Hermione in control was a beautiful thing.

“Merlin,” Draco moaned and finally snaked a hand up the front of her shirt. Just to her stomach though.

“You’re welcome,” Hermione said with a smirk.

Their lips parted just at the right moment. A door from above opened.

With a sigh, Hermione slid off his lap to the other side of the couch and picked up her book. Draco’s hand lingered under her shirt for a moment, trailing fingertips along her belly. Her breath hitched and she smiled at him before winking and licking her lips.

He watched her read for a little while, and then leaned back against the couch and shut his eyes to calm himself down.

“You okay?” she whispered.

Draco nodded. “Did Harry tell you that he told me that he loved me?”

Hermione stilled for a moment. “No, no he did not. What did you say?”

“Not what he wanted to hear.”

“It’s still too soon for you,” she said and touched his neck with soft fingers.

“Yeah.” Draco sighed and tilted his head to the side to give her fingers more room to touch. Still too daring in a common room that was about to fill up with gossiping students.

“Do you want me to talk to him?”

“No. I did. I just ... if the two of us are a little awkward around each other, that’s why. He’s started calling me ’love,’ and I know that he thinks that you and Ron’s bonding ceremony is going to be a double one.”

Hermione snorted. “Ron and I have barely agreed on having a bonding ceremony and he’s already tossing himself into it?”

“That’s Harry, I guess.”

“Yeah. I know the bond won’t make you love us or us love you, Dray. It really won’t. But this,” she lowered her voice, “turning me on and making me horny and leaving me unsatisfied so early in the morning will definitely help.”

Draco laughed and leaned for a kiss, but someone shouted good morning at them and he pulled away, laughter in his eyes.

“Do you want to go wake Harry, or should I?” Hermione asked.

“You have way more control than I do, and I’ll probably just slip into bed with him and never get out.”

“Slip into bed,” she said, settling her book down. “Is that the only thing you’d slip into?”

Draco winked. “Definitely not.”

She laughed and headed up the stairs. Draco watched for a moment and then picked up her book. _Obscure Witches and Wizards and the Myths Behind Them_. Not even required reading. Well, he didn’t mind if she was in control of him in the bedroom, but he certainly did mind that she was smarter than him. He went to the first page and started reading.

Other students said hello to him as they all got ready for breakfast. Ron settled onto the couch with him at some time and Draco didn’t do more than smile at him. Getting caught kissing Hermione was one thing, but he wasn’t really sure that he was ready to get caught kissing Ronald Weasley. He tried to keep the smirk off his face thinking of the Howler that was sure to be there for him. Vindictive, maybe a little, but as he told his mother, very entertaining.

As always, Harry was the last one to the common room.

He didn’t stop himself from kissing Harry.

“I’d tell you to get a room,” Hermione said, “but then you’d never leave it.”

“Sounds wonderful.”

Draco smiled.

“Come on, let’s get to breakfast.”

Once again, Alice Corner met them halfway to the Great Hall and walked with them, chattering about her classes. The talking in the Great Hall only dimmed a little when they walked in, unlike yesterday when it was almost silent. They said goodbye to Alice and sat down at the eighth-year table.

Draco noticed something almost right away. “Where are Thomas and Finnigan? I don’t remember them being in the common room this morning either.”

Ron and Harry exchanged a look.

“I don’t really want to know, do I?”

Harry laughed. “Probably not, love.”

“Let’s just say that Anthony and Justin are probably going to end up as roommates for the rest of the year.”

They were interrupted by the arrival of the owls, and Draco sat up straighter, trying not to laugh, because sure enough, there was a bright red envelope on its way to their table. It dropped in front of Ron’s plate, almost knocking his goblet over.

He paled, and whispered, “Dear Merlin, now what?”

Draco pressed a hand to hold in his laughter as the envelope started smoking.

“You better open it, Ron.”

Ron wasn’t really able to, and finally the envelope burst into flame, and Molly Weasley’s voice rang out through the Great Hall.

**_Ronald Billius Weasley, is this what a mother deserves? To hear of her son’s safety not from her son but from the Daily Prophet? How dare you? You are an ungrateful brat, causing harm to the woman that gave birth to you, that changed your nappies!_ **

“Oh Merlin no.”

Draco was outright laughing now, and Harry muffled his own laughter into Draco’s shoulder.

**_If you do not send an owl to me today, I will send you another one of these that will explain in detail the night of June seventeenth, three years ago. Do you want me to do that, Ronald? I do not think you want me to do that._ **

The voice died and Ron stared at it in horror.

“What happened on June seventeenth?” Finch-Fletchley asked.

Draco would have asked, but he couldn’t stop laughing.

“Nothing, Circe’s tits, nothing. Hermione, give me a parchment please. Merlin, my mother. Just ... buggering fuck.”

“You can write to her during lunch,” Hermione said. “We’ll be late for class if you do it now.”

“Remind me, please, remind me.”

“I’m not sure we will,” Harry said. “I want to know what happened on June seventeenth too.”

Ron put his head on the table and muttered, “I hate you all,” while they laughed at him.

\---

**Tuesday afternoon...**

“Ron!” Professor Weasley said as soon as the four of them walked into the DADA classroom. He grabbed Ron by the waist and yanked him off his feet. “You gave us all a good fright.”

“I’m fine, Bill.”

“You are now, but there was a time.” Professor Weasley held him at arm’s length, hands tight on his biceps. “When you were first whisked away, that same night, Mum’s clock had you and Harry locked in _Mortal Peril_ for about six hours.”

Ron’s eyes went wide. “Really?”

“Yeah, from just after midnight to almost six in the morning. There was a moment when you flipped closer to ... to Fred’s name.”

Ron gasped and pulled his older brother into another hug. “I’m fine. We were ... we were fine. Yeah, a little scared, but nothing we couldn’t handle.”

Professor Weasley held on to him for a little longer. “Did you write Mum back?”

“Yes, during lunch.”

“Too bad. What happened on June seven--”

“Nothing!” Ron said and pulled away from him.

Everyone in class snickered at him.

“I can guess,” Professor Weasley said. “Did she catch you wanking?”

“Oh Merlin, shut up.”

The class laughed louder.

“All right, all right, settle down,” Professor Weasley said. “The four of you are going to have to catch up with some of the others on your own time. Malfoy, are you still going to be able to brew all those potions for me?”

Draco nodded. “I hadn’t planned on starting the first one until this week anyway.”

Not to mention, Draco now could do them in half the time because of his wind.

“Good. That will really be good for this class. Now, we’ve moved on from defence and now we’re moving on to offence. Get out your wands and form two lines. One of the best spells in a fight is what I like to call a ‘grab and pound’ spell.” He spun around, pointed his wand at Harry and said, “ _Tiratu Imperium_!”

Harry was not expecting it, and he suddenly shot forward, just in the right spot for Professor Weasley to physically take him down, remove his wand and step on his neck with a dragonhide boot.

“Blimey, Bill,” Ron said.

Harry coughed. “That was ... cool.”

Professor Weasley laughed and helped Harry up. “The wand movement is an exaggerated swirl around your head and then a pull.” He demonstrated again.

“Like a lasso!” Finnigan said.

“Exactly.”

“This is a very complicated spell,” Hermione said. “How have I not heard of it?”

Professor Weasley smirked. “Because I created it. Now, some of you might not be able to get it today. It requires a lot of magic, but hopefully for your team’s sake, you’ll pick it up. Now. Teams.” He waved his wand in another complicated circle and Draco felt himself yanked to one side of the room. He ended up facing Longbottom, and he muttered under his breath. Bugger, but Longbottom was a strong wizard. Ron was next to him, with Thomas, Macmillan, Hannah, both Patil twins, and Wayne Hopkins finishing up their team. “First team to pull the others to their side wins. Don’t forget that you can use shields in this as well. Go.”

Draco threw up a shield first and felt the magical pull of Longbottom’s spell. He used the same whipping motion that Professor Weasley had and said the spell. To his surprise, it worked and he yanked Michael Corner over to their team.

“Great job, Malfoy. The first successful one. Corner is now on your team.”

The others groaned.

Draco met Harry’s eyes and he smirked. But his next spell was aimed elsewhere. He had a feeling Harry and Hermione were going to be last on their side. Ron pulled over Eloise Midgen on his second try, and Draco got Anthony Goldstein on his next. Hannah suddenly disappeared from his side, yanked over by Longbottom, and Hermione had pulled Corner to their side again before he even had a chance to try the spell on the other side.

Draco’s shield wavered, and Harry, the little cheater, tried to yank him over with a well placed spell. Draco physically dodged it and shot a spell back. Harry laughed at him as it was deflected off his shield. Draco had just enough time to fling another shield up before Hermione tried the same thing while he was distracted.

Curses were flying from both sides. The word kind of vulgarity, until Professor Weasley said, “Language! We’re in school. A point will be taken from your House for each curse you say from now on.”

After that, it was just spells shouted back and forth, with a little bit of gloating. Draco had no idea how many times he threw that spell, but his arm started aching, his mind going a little foggy. For a long time, both sides were evenly matched, and then slowly, Harry’s side started gaining more of Draco’s teammates. Draco tried a little harder, but to no avail.

When Professor Weasley finally told them all to stop, only Draco, Ron and one of the Patil twins were left on their side. Their heavy breathing echoed in the classroom. A few of them fell to the ground.

“Well done. For the next class, I want to you research spell creation and theorize the different ways you think I created this spell and how you could create your own spell with those ideas. We’ll talk about them in class, and then next week, you’ll have an essay due about how you’ll go about making your own offensive spells.”

Only Hermione seemed excited about the project. Draco was intrigued, but he was way too tired to show any enthusiasm.

Once again, most of the eighth years were falling asleep in their dinner.

\---

**Wednesday morning ...**

Draco thankfully woke up sans vines on Wednesday morning. It was a testament to how much DADA had drained them all that Harry hadn’t wrapped him up in at least three of them while he slept. It was difficult to get up, but yet again, his mother’s owl was at his window, pecking feverishly. He stumbled to the desk, thankful at the sudden cup of tea that appeared. He steadied himself before opening the window and letting the owl in. The wind and storm had died down, and now a small breeze blew over the castle grounds. Draco smiled and hoped they’d have time to go outside during lunch or just before dinner. It was too nice to study indoors.

He took the letter from the owl’s leg and sat down at the desk. Sipping at his perfect green tea, Draco read the letter.

_Draco Darling,_

_I was very happy to receive your letters, especially the one about that Howler. Ah, that must have been very entertaining._

_I will be blunt, my dragon._

_You are in love._

Draco’s breath stopped and he read that sentence again and again.

_There was a time when I felt the same way about your father, even as an arranged marriage, there was love on both sides. I was young and not the best example of discretion back then, as I followed your father around with hearts in my eyes, but he was tall and attractive. I learned quickly that this adoration could be used against me and it was, causing me to bottle up my feelings, and him as well. We were only in love out of the public eye._

_I am so very happy that you do not have to do that with your Harry. You can be as free and loving with him as you want._

_You are in love. Do not try to stop it. I know that you must be worried about yourself, your own heartbreak, and your own reputation. But never let those things get in the way of the people who are the most important to you._

_You love Harry. You need to tell him that. Every day. Every hour. And in your heart, every second._

_I do not think it is too soon. You have grown and lived and hurt and healed together for almost a decade. There has always been passion between you and a good dose of grudging respect. Let that turn to love. Let it turn to passion._

_Molly told me that Harry told her that he likes you because you keep him honest, you keep him sane, you have never pandered after him for approval and always fought back with the same fervor that he showed you. Harry respects you. And with that respect has come love._

_Embrace it. Embrace him._

_I want what is best for you. There was a time when I hoped you would be friends with Harry, but that was purely selfish. Now I want you to be with him because he makes you happy. He does make you happy, doesn’t he, sweetheart?_

“Yes,” Draco whispered, his chest tightening.

_You deserve all the happiness in the world after what you have been through. All four of you do. And if that means that we will be tied to the Weasley family if only in name, then so be it. There are worse fates, and I would no longer consider this one to be all that bad._

_I love you, my dragon. Minerva has agreed to allow you to come to tea on Sunday. Bring Harry. I cannot wait to see you and meet him properly._

_With all my love,  
Your Mother_

Draco did not realize that he was crying, not until warm strong arms wrapped around his body and Harry whispered something to him. He heard the tone but not the words, but it was enough. He turned around in the chair and buried his face in Harry’s bare chest.

“I love you,” he muttered into the warm skin.

Harry froze for a moment and then relaxed. It was another moment later that he said, “And you’re crying because of that?”

“Shut up, Scarhead, and just accept it.”

Harry chuckled. “I already have, Ferret. Fucked up elemental bond or no, I’m so glad that I got to know you, I’m so glad to have gotten close to you and that I’m a part of your life.”

Draco nodded and tilted his head back. Harry kissed him and then rubbed the tears from his face.

“I love you,” Draco said again, this time keeping eye contact with those shimmering green eyes.

Harry smiled. “I love you too.”

“I want to love the others too, but I ... I ... it’s too soon.”

Harry nodded. “I know. But if you want to, then maybe one day you will.”

Draco pressed his face to Harry’s stomach and just breathed in the earthy, warm scent of him. He smelled of sleep under an oak tree with a cool summer breeze blowing over his skin.

The parchment of his mother’s letter moved, and Draco realized that Harry was reading it. He did not mind.

“You knew about that Howler?”

Draco laughed. “I did.”

“You should have said something.”

“No way. That was so epic.”

Harry laughed. “It was pretty awesome.” He finished reading the letter with a smile on his face. “You’re lucky you have a mother that loves you.”

“Your mother loved you just as much,” Draco said immediately.

Harry smiled. “Probably. Now, that’s enough of mothers, really. I only woke up early so I’d have enough time to give you a blowjob in the shower.”

Draco shook his head. “Sorry, love.” He paused at how easy it was to say the little pet name. “I am too emotionally out of balance right now to keep control of my magic.”

Harry smiled and nodded. “I understand. In that case,” he took Draco by the hands and pulled him back toward the bed, “come and sleep. We still have an hour before we have to be up.”

Draco knew he shouldn’t, but he allowed himself to be pulled under the warm covers that smelled like Harry and he allowed himself to be coddled and cuddled and touched.

If they woke up late and were almost late to breakfast again, well, at least they were consistent.

It wasn’t until after breakfast that he remembered that he had Potions with a professor that hated him. Well, that just made him more determined to be perfect.

The first thing Draco noticed after walking in to the Potions classroom was Alastor and Chester holding hands on the top of the table. He smirked at them, and Alastor smiled back even though Chester glared.

The second thing he noticed was his private workbench covered in shite again.

Draco sighed and waved a hand at it to clean it, waved again to organize and banish what he needed and didn’t need, and then threw up even more complicated protection spells.

“Tens points from Slytherin for showing off,” Professor Slughorn said from behind him.

He met Hermione’s eyes. She made a very rude two-finger gesture at Slughorn’s back with her hand and Draco laughed, losing another five points for disrespect.

“Careful with those fingers, Granger,” Draco said. “I know where they’ve been.” He winked at her.

“Careful with that mouth, Malfoy,” she returned. “It’s probably been in the same place.”

Draco laughed and sat at their table. He ignored Slughorn’s glare because in the scheme of things, he had someone to love and someone that loved him, he was more powerful than Slughorn by far, and there was nothing in the world that was going to stop him from his goal of being a Potions master; only a few other elemental wizards that would do their best to distract him when he needed it and love and support him through the rest of it.

 

 

**Epilogue**

_July ..._

Draco stood in front of the full length mirror, checking the fall of his elegant blue robes. The color wasn’t quite navy and wasn’t quite blue. A dark color between them that reminded Draco of the sky just after the sun had set before blackness really took over for the night.

“You know that staring at yourself in the mirror won’t make you anymore attracticve, right?”

Draco glanced behind him at Harry. Harry’s robes were a deep silver, a bit brighter than gray but not as shiny as the rings on their fingers. His long hair was pulled back into a slightly organized mess.

Draco smirked. “I don’t know. Have you tried it?”

Harry laughed. “I’m glad you remember that.”

“I am glad that we’ll be spending the rest of our lives together and making even stupider memories.”

Harry’s smiled stayed, but his face went soft. “I love you.”

Draco had to swallow around a tightness in his throat. “I love you.”

“We’re starting in five, so don’t spend too much more time admiring yourself.”

Draco grinned.

“You look fine,” Hermione said and pushed her way past Harry. Her dress was low cut and red, a bright vibrant red that stood out between their darker colors. With her hair piled up on her head and her shoulders and collarbones on display, it was hard to focus on anything else.

“I always look fine, Granger,” Draco snapped. “For this ... for this I need ... to be..” He glanced in the mirror again, at the Golden Trio standing just inside the door. Ron was gorgeous and a burning lust flared in Draco’s gut. The deep green robes accentuated his shoulders and added elegance to his strong frame.

“Perfect, Ferret,” Ron said. “You are perfect and everything we could have ever asked for.”

Draco felt himself flush.

“Give us a second,” Ron whispered. “We’ll be right out.”

Harry and Hermione agreed with smiles. They knew sometimes only Ron was what Draco needed.

Ron strode into the room, coming up behind Draco. He put his hands on Draco’s shoulders and spun him around. “I don’t think I need to tell you any words that you won’t believe, so believe this.”

He cupped Draco’s face in a firm grip, long fingers practically digging into his cheeks. The kiss started surprisingly soft and then deepened. Draco’s hands fluttered at Ron’s arms and then lifted, up into his hair, red, fiery hair that was down to his chin, long enough to pull on.

And Draco was reminded of just two nights ago when he’d pulled on it as Ron swallowed his release, four long fingers buried inside him, their cries echoing through the room and bringing their other two lovers from wherever they had been.

“We are going to spend the rest of our lives together. Eternity. I know you don’t like to thinkg about that, but the company, the love, the joy that you bring to us will make even the longest life more fulfilling.”

Draco tried not to cry into the next kiss.

A wave of water reminded them of the time, and Ron reluctantly pulled back, their lips clinging just a little longer.

“I love you,” Ron whispered. “I love everything about you and every day, every hour, every second, I feel like the luckiest man alive.”

Draco swallowed roughly, blinking and letting tears fall. “I love you.”

“This bonding may be a show between me and Hermione and you and Harry, but you know and we know that it’s for all four of us. We will always be together, always connected.”

“Always in love.”

“Fuck yeah.”

Draco smiled and kissed him again. “Come on. Let’s get out there before people think we’ve run off together.”

“Now wouldn’t that cause a headline.”

“Ex-Death Eater Kidnaps Youngest Weasley Son!”

Ron chuckled. “Youngest Weasley Son Runs off with the Love of his Life.”

“Ex-Death Eater Abandons the Boy Who Lived and Leaves Hermione Granger Crying at the Altar.”

Ron shook his head. “I’m trying to be optimistic.”

“And as always, I’m being realistic.”

“Well, at least during the honeymoon we can be together. I’m going to fuck you so hard you won’t want to leave the bed ever again.”

“Isn’t that what I said two days ago when you three insisted we do this?” He waved his hand toward the window where everyone had gathered for their wedding. “I didn’t want to get out of bed.”

“Neither did I actually, so I guess that means it is all their fault and we should run away together and get to a bed.”

Draco smiled, suddenly realizing they still had their arms around each other. With Ron just a few centimeters taller than him, it was a perfect height for one more kiss, one more shared moment. Their foreheads pressed together, their breaths mingled.

In the silence, Hermione’s voice suddenly said, “Ronald Weasley get your hand off his dick and come and marry us!”

They both laughed. Ron sobered first, touching Draco’s cheek and kissing him softly. “I love you, Ferret.”

“Love you, too, Weasel.”


End file.
